We went to the Bardic on Saturday night and I read “Tundra baby,” “The Mound,” and “Coyote for Coffee” which is an older poem, and highly amusing. At this event, a certain person who often goes by the nomenclature of Lily Pond Wolf walked over to my husband and grabbed his ass. When he complained, she laughed and did it again. She also took his photo several times over his well-voiced and loud complaints that he was uncomfortable with that. She ignored him, and I am going to now have to do something ugly. I am going to have to tell the organizers.

In other news, the latest offing for the poetry class, hot off the press.

Familia Musica – Deborah Jarvis 2/4/13

Three blind players were our kin,

(We’re glad there weren’t four!)

They played a loud, amazing din

And no one cried for more.

 

The violinist screeched away,

His bowing skills were harsh,

His listeners were all heard to say,

“Let’s throw him in a marsh.”

 

As fingers danced on mandolin

They often missed a step;

Music from an opera has-been

Who’d oft come down with strep.

 

The fumble-fingered guitarist broke

Every string she tried to tune

Along with the songs she made to croak

Her career had found its doom.

 

They’d come together one spring day

In hopes of getting signed

But we all realized clear as day

They were deaf as well as blind.

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