Thursday, March 5, 2009

Outdoor Poetry Season

I hand washed a couple pair of jeans this morning and actually hung them outside to dry. It's only March 5, but it's also Washington, DC and our south facing back porch gets decently warm on a sunny day like today.

If it's nearing time when one can rely on good weather for drying laundry, then outdoor poetry season must be close.

I'm so excited. In anticipation, I'm listening to Jefferson Aiplane's Surrealistic Pillow.


  1. YES! I want to put a clothes line in my back yard.

  2. Outdoor poetry, Surrealistic Pillow ... not sure I'm in the right psychic space to connect the dots.

  3. Sometimes one is in that zone, sometimes not, but as the song says, "Feed your head, feed your head." Outdoor poetry season is grazing one's own thoughts, and being on the lookout for wild ideas and strays. It ought to be other things, as well. I thought I might form a committee to institutionalize celebration of Opening Day for Outdoor Poetry Season.

    We had a back yard clothesline in Chicago. Here we have a lattice roof on our back porch from which I can hang clothes on hangers. It's not the same, but it must do.