Poetry is indispensable-if I only knew what for.
From my old journal, The Daily Epiphany, July 7, 2001 (exactly 20 years ago):
Half Price Poetry
In keeping with my post-mountain-vacation theme of trying to do some fun big-city stuff I sneaked out last night to go to the monthly First Friday poetry reading at the big main Half-Price book store on Northwest Highway. The crowd was a bit smaller than they were the last time I went, maybe because now it’s summer. I was actually able to get a place to sit.
The poetry, as always, was pretty variable in quality. A lot of it is too traditional, too Moon-June for my tastes. I want to hear something wild, emotional, and witty. Still, though, I enjoy going to the readings.
As a matter of fact – I realize that I can’t even hear most of the poetry. I like to sit there and watch the reader and the crowd – the shuffling of papers, the popping of the microphone, the smell of old books, and the taste of coffee.
One thing I did enjoy was when someone came up and read the from the theme song from “Petticoat Junction.”
Come ride that little train that is rolling down the tracks to the Junction,
Forget about your cares, it is time to relax at the Junction,
Lots of curves, you bet, even more when you get to the Junction,
Well, we’ll soon be leavin’ town
There’s old Charley oilin’ round
Can she make it up the hill
At least to Hooterville
The pressure’s on the rise
Floyd is burning railroad ties
Everybody get inside
Doesn’t cost a cent to ride
Come one and come all and we’ll take that Cannonball to the Junction,