#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream
In the city, Battery Park, woke up to clouds, impending rain. But I have a walk to look forward to in an area I have walked before, and love, along the Hudson River to Poets House on Riverview Terrace, passing a view of the Statue of Liberty, passing the ferry, through bright parks of spring bulbs in bloom, past Sunday morning joggers. Today is the IWWG Spring Big Apple Writing Conference, and I will attend and participate on our author's panel, representing poetry. This is our second year at Poets House, having relocated from another venue, and I'm personally thrilled to have our NYC conference i a space that honors poets and poetry.
After the panel, and lunch, in the afternoon, I write a very rough first draft of a poem in Yun Wei's workshop on "What Poetry and Fiction can teach each other." And, at the very end of the day, in the open mic, I read a poem inspired by a photo I took on one of my daily walks, a small piece of pink tree bark I found on the forest floor, and wrote into a poem called "Pinked" about my mother sewing a May Day dress for me:
"I’m picked, among the countless
cottoned, blossomed, from bolts, I am one here. . . '
And now, I am heading home.