Obama or Clinton, David A. or David C., paper or plastic, global warming or nuclear winter, poetry or prose, boxers or briefs, difficulty or clarity, walk or drive, solitude or community: there are just too many decisions!

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I would love to visit here:

At The Homestead, where Dickinson spent nearly her entire life, you can walk the same flagstone path she followed across the east lawn, stand under the massive white oak tree that dates from her time, then pass peony and lilac bushes she may have passed.

This quiet retreat, which both sheltered and stimulated Dickinson, is only a four-hour drive from the Lehigh Valley. It opens the door to the world of a poet whose relationship to her garden is only now being deeply plumbed.

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See you at Skagit! I have been asked to visit an 8th grade classroom. I think I'll say a few words about doctoring and poeting (is that a word?), and then do a brief exercise, like the sensory poem, or something like that. I have no idea how this will turn out, but I'll try to make it fun. Or at least not lame.

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