I ended up writing a little bit about AWP in a blog entry for my job. I have seen so many recaps at this point, that I’m a little burned out on the idea of doing anything past the surface-level I’ve touched upon already. I ran around from poetry reading to poetry reading in the middle of a blizzard; I drank whiskey; I drank champagne; I said, “Wow, Boston is so clean!” too often, yet felt grateful when my bus descended into the Bronx with trash blowing all around me.
My favorite event was of course the Dancing Birds Brunch. Through an email chain, over the course of a little over a week, a few poets and writers who were published on Birds of Lace and Dancing Girl Press managed to receive the blessings of both editors (who sadly could not attend) and put on a mini-brunch/reading in a hotel suite. Carina, Steph and I were up at the crack of dawn, loading up a basket in Trader Joe’s, creating a table spread of cucumber sandwiches and mimosas for our attendees. It was beautiful to have 50 people all gathered in a suite, reclining on hotel beds & chairs, watching someone read their work beside a giant plasma television. This is poetry.
Although I don’t really experience any nervousness or anxiousness about reading/hosting lit events anymore, I felt very sensitive to the fact that the host-role for two feminist presses had fallen into my hands. Being the only man on the reader list, who also—to some degree—was representing presses founded by and primarily publishing women—was a fact that did not go unnoticed by me. Perhaps the most important part of being a feminist for me—is listening—and always trying to make sure that I am honoring and respecting the work of women. After the event, people kept approaching me and telling me DBB was their favorite off-site event at AWP thus-far. Although I’m sad that I couldn’t share the moment with Gina, whose press I am endlessly thankful to be coming out on, I know she would have been proud of how the event turned out. I got to be in a room with writer friends I adore—Niina & Nicole—as well as meeting people whose work I have only been recently exposed to (and enjoy greatly) like Megan Milks.
So perhaps, all there is left to say is—see you next year in Seattle. There are many hotel room readings ahead of us; endless bathtubs to fill with champagne.
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