February 1: End of Day, Donald Hall, Feeling Important

It is the end of a very long work day.  My mind feels weary.  I'm looking forward to getting home, putting on my pajamas, and doing nothing for the rest of the night.  Of course, I will probably end up doing something, but I'm not planning anything in particular.I hope you got all that.  Nothing.  Something.  Anything.  That's a lot of "things" in one paragraph.

This morning, my good poet friend, who is the editor of the literary magazine at the university, forwarded me an e-mail she received from the poet Donald Hall.  Attached to the e-mail were two of Hall's unpublished poems.  Now, being the associate poetry editor of the magazine, I shouldn't act like some kind of teenage girl at a Justin Bieber concert when I read a submission by a famous poet.  But it was Donald freakin' Hall.  Come on.  The poems were short and funny.  For me, reading a personal communication from Donald Hall was like finding a copy of the Bible with Mother Teresa's hand-written notes in it.  It made my morning.

Aside from making me feel like the ultimate geek poetry fanboy, it also made me feel a little important.  I was considering publishing two poems by Donald Hall.  Actually, there was very little consideration involved.  The poems were going to get accepted, whether I liked them or not.  I didn't even really get to express my opinion before I got a second e-mail from my poet friend saying that she'd accepted the poems.  However, just the fact that I was being asked my opinion about work by Donald Hall was a pretty big ego boost.

Anyway, Donald Hall made Saint Marty's day today.

Donald Hall and some other guy