La parola da casa, Serena Piccoli

i have been receiving many reading notices lately from poets that i know. poeple are reading all over the country and inviting me to come hear them. sure, i'll fly to frisco for an hour long reading. i suppose that i would if i suspected the reader was incredible. often after a reading i wish that i would have not heard the reader, for then i wouldn't have to try to drown out how he or she sounded so that i can hear the voice of the writer in my head and enjoy the work. i can count the number of readings that i have considered incredible on one hand. i suppose that's one reason i rarely read. the other being that i'm rarely asked.

the school year has started again. i find myself dancing around again in front of blank and perhaps eager faces. you'd think that being a teacher in itself would make me want to read my work, but instead it focuses me towards the precious nature of language. like picard in his theory, i'm trying to convince myself that what i need to say is more important than the silence.