March 18: Recording Poems, Andrea Scarpino, "Homily"

I was once more at the studio of the local Public Radio station this afternoon, this time to record some of my poems for National Poetry Month.  Sometimes when I read many of my poems in one sitting, they all sort of blend together for me, create one large poem.  I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.  I don't like the idea of writing the same poems over and over (although it worked for Walt Whitman).  It was a little disconcerting.

Anyway, I do have another Andrea Scarpino poem for you.  It's a moving little prose poem.

Saint Marty needs to stop obsessing about his poems this evening, or he's never going to get to sleep.

Homily

by:  Andrea Scarpino

Notre Dame de Paris, Christmas Day.  She didn't believe in God and yet, the smell of evergreen, of wooden pews, incense swung in metal balls.  Tourists walked the sides of the nave past paintings, glass.  She bought a pencil sketch, gargoyles spouting water from the eaves.  She didn't believe in God and yet, she saw awhile, edge of a pew, listened to the priests, mass in Latin, hymns in French.  Morning sun warmed the glass, the smell of evergreen.  On her knees, she lit a candle, prayed, believed, Keep my father safe.  Amen.

Where's a hunchback when you need him?

April 1: Choosing and Recording Poems, a Little Dip in the "Rye"

Yes, it is the first day of National Poetry Month.  At 12:30 p.m., I have a date at the local Public Radio station to record some of my poems for broadcast this month.  It's something the station has been doing for quite a few years, and it allows listeners to hear the work of local writers.

My problem is this:  I'm not sure what poems I've recorded in the past.  I was going through my poetry binder, picking out possibilities, and suddenly realized I'd already recorded one of them last year.  I really need to keep better track of what I've already used from year-to-year.

Anyway, I have a good stack of poems that I'm sure I haven't recorded before.  Now my nerves are beginning to kick in.  I can usually read my poems straight through, without a mistake.  However, now that I've put that out there, I'm sure I'm go to turn into a stuttering mess.  It will be like Mel Tillis reciting Shakespeare.

My question for Rye Dip Monday is this:

Will I be able to record my poems this afternoon in one take, without any mistakes?

And the answer from Mr. Salinger is:

She was sore as hell, but she got up off my goddam lap so that I could go over and get my wallet off the chiffonier.  I took out a five-dollar bill and handed it to her.  "Thanks a lot," I told her.  "Thanks a million."

I'm not sure what this passage says about recording poetry this afternoon.  Maybe I'll run into a prostitute on my way to the studio.  Maybe I'll get through my recording easily and be really grateful.  Maybe I'll have to pay the radio station to put my poems on air.

Saint Marty is getting mixed signals.

To b-be or n-not t-to b-be...