by Lenska
Poetry to read in the laundromat and poetry to read somewhere else:
Rimbaud does well on the plane.
Japanese poets in my special chair, total silence in the house. Wind outside.
Nietzsche under a tree in a meadow bordering a forest. Not too many people around.
Sappho at my desk, background music fine, especially anything with plucked strings.
Diane Seuss late at night.
Feminist writers in bed before I fall asleep. No, it’s not sexual. I need a lot of pillow support when I steer towards being a woman and a writer. I need all the reasons and all the support to pay the price and to accept a laurel every now and then.
