O Pen!
In 2004, I wrote a poem called "O Pen" and performed it at an open mic. Mid-way through Pacific University's MFA program, I decided I needed a way to discuss poems I was studying or wanted to know more about. O Pen sounded like a perfect name for such a group, and we have been meeting each week, since February 2008. I dedicate my musings to the creative, thoughtful and intelligent people who attend and to those who enjoy delving into the magic of a poem!
BILL HOLM was born to Icelandic immigrants on a farm north of Minneota, Minnesota in 1943. A long-time resident of Minneota, Holm lived with his wife Marcie and taught at Southwest Minnesota State University in Marshall from 1980 until he retired in 2007. He traveled widely, to Iceland on a Fulbright in 1979, and more recently to his summer home in Hofsos; and to China, where he taught on an academic exchange program in 1986 and again in 1992. The recipient of the 2008 McKnight Distinguished Artist Award, Holm is the author of several books of essays and poetry including, most recently, The Windows of Brimnes. Known both regionally and nationally as a humorist, writer, and prairie radical, Bill Holm passed away on February 26, 2009. -- Marianne CombsMarch 21, 2011 6:00 AM
[2] U Tak, born in 1263, was a Korean philosopher of neo-Confucianism and poet. He died in 1343.
Joy Harjo:Eddy's share:her book “An American Sunrise” and there have been poems that also mention “story” in a kind of metaphorical sense. One poem is “The Story Wheel” (photo below), and another is “Washing My Mother’s Body”, in which she says “The story is all there, in her body, as I wash her to prepare her / to be let down into earth, and return all stories to the earth.” And later, “I emerged from the story, dripping with the waters of memory.” Lastly, I interpret “Without” as Harjo expressing a desire to meet her “beloved rascal” again, maybe after death. The poem was written too early to be about this, but I believe her daughter Rainy Dawn Ortiz passed away in 2023. (A poem she wrote:
Note: For Rundel: Sessions will recommence July 3 and run through Aug. 14. NO MEETINGS in June or next week.For Pittsford: There is NO SESSION June 18.
Poems: In a Village in the West Bank byNaomi Shihab Nye; Saying Grace by Abby E. Murray; There Is a Fire by Michael Lavers; What Does It Sayby Tess Gallagher; In a Country None of Us Called Home by Peg Bresnahan; Hedge, that divides the lovely Garden by Torquato Tasso
Nutshell:
In a Village... : This first poem triggered a discussion on the nature of poetry. What makes this anecdotal scene a poem? If it had been in a block as an essay, would the lines have unfolded as they did, contrasting the words of the boy in quotations? It starts in media res -- in the middle of things -- a boy writing a book and speaking about his work in class conducted by zoom. We imagined reading the poem with two voices, one of the boy saying, "It's about a problem" the other the poet/teacher providing information -- first about soldiers sneaking around in the occupied land breaking into houses, chopping olive trees, smashing lamps. The boy's voice reiterates: A problem between spiders and ants. Now, we hear a commentary, how refreshing, to look at a problem not made by humans. Were the details about spiders and ants accurate? Does that matter?
Now, the boy's voice disappears and we hear the interpretation of the teacher. The trigger of imagining his parents speaking Arabic, and her homesickness for all that represents for her. The reader is given three different "spaces", what a world looks like, long ago before the war, for spiders and ants, for warring soldiers.
I don't mean to re-tell the poem, but show the layers livened into the bread of the poem kneaded with air.
Parallels, images, anthropomorphizing, an example of imagination at work, the beauty of an idea this boy believes in and will illustrate. And the final three lines that give a clue of what the ants can do so they don't all get killed, ending with: "It's not that hard."
We agreed, the poem gave us hope. Perhaps it is a two-state solution for Palestine/Israel, but regardless,
we engaged with the boy, his world, replete with hints of smells, tastes. We are reminded about who we are, who we pretend to look like, and how this links with what we do to survive, in turn connected to how species take up space. Does that matter when addressing a larger issue about re
I doubt a block of prose could provide such an ample and rich understanding.
Saying Grace: If you don't pause before eating, perhaps not even sitting down with others, I'll be glad to share the roomful of shares of things to say before a meal from "rub-a-dub dub, thanks for the grub. Yay God", to more formal blessings and the Quaker respectful silence before eating. Tucked into the poem are lines like following holiness where it goes and we give thanks/and feel certain that somewhere beyond us/our gratitude matters: Breaking habits... miracle of rest... small things we take for granted as gifts "we only seem to give away." As Graeme remarked, the title is a perfect high-dive platform and we join the poet plunging in, glad for each drop of detail. Well... the bottom line is everyone LOVED this poem. Every line and line break so perfect, effortless and delightful.
There is a fire: We agreed, powerful imagery but quite an uneven poem. Art, nature, children and this idea of trying... watching "God bloom". Perhaps the purple comb comes from Gorky's painting or a poem about a Chinese wife who died leaving it behind. Objects are meaningful in different ways to different people and many shared associations the poem brought up.
Reality filtered through memory animated with feeling... ?
The quote chosen by the poet sums it up: "In art there is only one thing that matters: that which cannot be explained."
What Does it Say: the title feels incomplete. What is "it"? Or is it a general, "what does that say about us... about a person, about things...). The line breaks are fabulous-- and enjambed stanza breaks an extra dollop of pleasure. What needs repair, restoration in this "falling-apart era" ? Why in a world that "walks around/only in new shoes" do we not ask for that shoe repairman, alive to our "need to be treated mercifully..." ? We enjoyed sharing comments about "the patina of use" and how things are more interesting when they have "wear" in them... , memories of the shoe repair shop, and more. The final three lines are a beautifully phrased commentary of such a repairman as we walk through life. It's not the shoes... but the journey...
someone to companion our fragile hopes
in the form of these emptied out,
unsalvageable steps.
In a Country... The final poem starts with unpinnable circumstances, and then, a serendipitous cab ride replete with multiple details that left us all wanting to revive whistle power! As one person put, "I don't envy the cab driver". Delightful and of course, allowing us to think about what makes us "feel at home" in general as well as when traveling.
Hedge that divides: Lovely poem in courtly love tradition where hedge/lover can be interchanged... the sense of touch especially makes the poem feel alive.
In closing, Neil shared this poem from Pat Janus, in her book, Synchronicity
I recommend (thank you Jon) How a poem appeals to our heart.. not an intellectual puzzle to solve. Major Jackson from "How to Read a Poem" https://news.vanderbilt.edu/2025/05/15/how-to-read-a-poem/ It reminds me of the wisdom of Keats describing "negative capability" and the importance of a poem to embrace "uncertainty" and avoid "irritable reaching after fact and reason". The notes reflect the spirit of the discussion of these Poems:
By the Front Door by W.S. Merwin; A Rainy Morning by Ted Kooser; Adlestrop by Edward Thomas; Ozymandias (1818) Percy Bysshe Shelley; At the Very Lengthy Meeting by Kevin McCaffrey; My Dream by Han Yong-un (1879 –1944); Anthem for America by Varsha Saraiya-Shah; Future History of Earth’s Birds by Amie Whittemore
"And this our life, exempt from public haunt/Find tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,/Sermons in stones and good in everything."
commentary: we came up with the idea of "homeopathic poetry" -- a little dose has a beneficial healing effect! Judith helped us place the quote as the moment when the Duke is thrown out ( in the play, "As you Like It": https://www.playshakespeare.com/as-you-like-it/synopsis
**
Nutshell of discussion.
By the front door: 3 lines, 9-7-5 syllables with a haiku-like feel reminiscent of Basho's haiku "Old Pond /Frogs jump in... sound of water"--(the last line is particularly untranslatable: in Japanese: "mizu no oto"-- ). Given Merwin's translations of Basho, it is not surprising that his poem have overtones of this famous haiku! (Kathy mentioned that Merwin's translations of Basho all seems to be "Merwinesque") The feeling most had reading this poem is one of happiness. Perhaps it is the association of a toad singing, perhaps a sign of return of spring, as well as the "happiness" as "old as water" which augments a sense of timelessness. In Merwin's poem, the rain reinforces the element of recurrence. Regardless, however you understand the poem, whatever layers and associations evoked, Merwin's poem passes the test of appealing to the heart, engaging the reader as willing "accomplice".
A Rainy Morning: Kooser lends his "home-spun" tone in this empathetic description with intricate visual detail and an unusual metaphor of the way a woman pushes herself in her wheelchair as if striking keys of a piano-- expertly, as if effortlessly,
a performance further compared to playing chords of difficult music. One forgets perhaps that it is a rainy morning until the penultimate line, her wet face beautiful in its concentration and the cooperative role of the wind in final line turning the pages of rain. We do not know the story of the woman, why she is in a wheelchair, and perhaps some might even forget she is, given the dignity and grace Kooser creates, emanating from this simple scene where every line and detail counts.
Adelstrop: Adlestrop (hyperlink tells you more about the poet). Known as one of the Dymock poets, Thomas, good friend with Robert Frost, penned this in June 1914, before the Guns of August and start of the First World War and the poem was published just after Thomas was killed in the war in 1917. The mood of the poem makes you shiver with the hiss of steam, the blackbird, this chance moment of an unexpected stop no one knew aside from the name on the station. For a sense of the place, https://www.edwardthomaspoetryplaces.com/post/adlestrop
This poem, without knowing anything about the poet, the time period, circumstance, captures a sense of being anywhere and yet at the same time a particular place and time all at once. We enjoyed the sound of "unwontedly", summarizing in one old-fashioned word the unplanned stop in a seemingly deserted station, with no one leaving or coming. What is in a name, except now the place is famous because of the poem and the connection with the poet and the war, and the mood of apprehension that makes you shiver, as a solo scree from a blackbird evokes an expanding chorus of all birds breaking the stillness. Compared to the romantic poets (and perhaps Thomas is mocking them in the 3rd stanza with the "lonely fair haycocks" and "cloudlets".
Oxymandias: I chose it as follow-up from last week with Archive and Exodus. A warm thank you to Paul who kindly filled us in all that Diodorus_Siculus had to say about Ramses IIand to Judith who brought upAbu Simbel. I think this photo sums up the power of this poem written by 26 year old Shelley in 1818. Just the legs stand... Do his words, "Look on my words ye Mighty and despair" as a "colossal wreck" ?
A thank you to Judith as well for providing this contemporary (2018) take on Ozymandias by a local poet.
THE NEW OZYMANDIAS by Kip Williams
I met a farer from a far-off strand
Who said, “Two giant feet of bronze, gone green,
In water sit, bedecked with broken chains
That show their maker well did understand
That bonds of former slavery, still seen,
Convey defeated servitude’s remains.
Near by, a broken torch lies, dead and dark
In grimy water’s tide that, fitful, passes,
And on the base, these words my eyes did mark:
‘Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses
Yearning to breathe free.’ Here ends the poem,
The rest is eaten by the restless water.
Along the shore, starved, feral humans roam
Whose brandished weapons offer naught but slaughter.”
At the very lengthy meeting: This poet has clear knowledge of craft demonstrated in his other books which draw energy , like this poem from a joyful spelling out of the tedious! True to life, but with a Billy Collins flair as he takes a metaphor of a moth and makes it real. We came up with another phrase: "associational short-circuits" -- how in heavens name, in a sonnet form no less, we go from a soul-sapping meeting, in the first 8 lines, (peppered with one pompous detail, describing "impetuous emptiness" thrown by said soul, now a trapped moth) only to embellish the metaphor in the next 6 in such a way everyone explodes in laughter. Who has not witnessed such a "moth-soul" at an overly lengthy meeting? "not exhausted, / but bored"... stained with all the breaths/and words and thoughts that filled the room... "the yellow-green color of old teeth".
My Dream: We noted the unusual repeat in each of the three stanzas: when XYZ, my dream will become followed by a detail in a loved one's life. From the previous comic poem, we returned to a highly romantic treatment of someone watching over a child or lover, with the tender expression of deep desire in the dream of joining him/her. Apparently this poem was written in 1926 by Han Yong-un (b. 1879), a S. Korean monk and independence activist in the Japanese colonial era. One blog refers to the poem as "a good expression of the beauty of pure Hangul ( Korean writing system: https://www.britannica.com/topic/Korean-language) written lightly in the form of a letter. Many poets have described words as birds, as does the poet below who seems to capture beautifully the feel of Han Yong-un's poem. Forgive me for not noting the name...
"words ha:ng in the air, like birds, verdicts -- some turn their back, others flutter, fragile with tricks of language... trying to hold them, they dissolve, and the stories, people become ghosts, and one day, we too become part of the air."
One person shared how the cricket's chirrup sounds like "cheer up" which indeed, is the effect of the cricket's song.
Anthem: Here, using the form of an Abecedarian, many agreed that the form interfered with the sound and sense, although the variety is somewhat engaging. Is the poet referencing Amanda Gorman in the 3rd line (The Hill we climb)? It was disconcerting to have the infinitive "to/Man up broken. We were not sure what was intended by the series of XY's YX's, etc. The ending two lines although a fine "spelling" of PEACE feel awkward, and fall in the department of "puzzle-solving" rather than poetry.
Future History of Earth's Birds: The challenge I proposed was to imagine being one of the judges of the Treehouse Climate Action Poem Prize and examining this poem as an example of an "exceptional poem". Certainly, we learn interesting facts about birds, but the spacing and breaking of lines feels disruptive and does not fall into a pattern that supports the meaning. As one person put it, if this was 3rd prize, perhaps there were only 3 entries. Another take: there is a repeat of the opening line to close the poem, but the filling needs work. I confess, it is not fair to have introduced the poem in a negative way. Click on the hyperlink of the poet, Amie Whittemoreborn in 1980, Poet Laureate of Murfreesboro, TN in 2020-21 and you will find out more including this judge's citation: “Future History of Earth’s Birds” is avian demise wrapped in thin shells, with the unhatched learning of horrible fates to come. It is kites at some pinnacle, or nadir of evolution, dropping fire onto a burning world that they didn’t ignite, while also providing humans with the field guide how-to instructions. Who’s to blame? The heart of it lies here: “Does it matter // what kind of birds did this? They’re all dead now.” These lines are solemn pronouncements of avian fate laid at the feet of humanity, which will suffer that same fate. No canaries were harmed during the writing of this poem, but our hearts heard them stop singing."
In closing, Jerry shared two hand-written copies of a poem he had written to a dear friend of his in Wisconsin. The good news, his friend is doing well.
May 12, 2025
Carla:
You are like a full moon
like the first cup of coffee
before the sun.
I don't know what I would do if
I would lose you.
You are my strength.
You are the needle on my compass that always points north.
The Globe by Michael Collier; Opposing Easels by Thomas Mixon; a dead whale can feed an entire ecosystem by Rachel Dillon; Oxymorons by William Matthews; Without by Joy Harjo; ARCHIVE AND EXODUSby Jimmy Neenan
The Globe: The first4 couplets describe a globe, inviting the reader to think of how we "represent the world", how a planet is divided into arbitrary color-coded portions of nations. The alliterative description, "cradled in its caliper", emphasizes the stamp of our human representation/organization of this planet. In the 5th couplet, "obvious and obscure" as adjectives about a globe leap into the inner light that it holds. Two more couplets paint an intimately tender memory of the speaker's children. We admired the rhythm, the clever metaphors and parallels.
Born in 1953, Collier perhaps remembers when times seemed "round" and solid. Graeme remembered "when the world was red", meaning, territories in red belonged to the English Empire and many remarked how names of countries have changed, and many had such a globe although not all had the feature of night light, controlled with a flick of a switch.
The narrative's poignancy of packing it away, signifying the inevitable passing of time, becomes the vehicle for recalling the intimacy the poet feels for his sons, intensified by comparing the light to the size of a child's thumb, the continents the size of their hands, translucent as they "palmed the planet" to make it spin—perhaps an echo of the song "He's got the whole world in his hands". Hands down an excellent poem with everyone a willing accomplice!
Oppposing Easels: Delightful villanelle written in response to Rattle's ekphrastic challenge of the painting, Siblings under the Skin, where the living people (and even some of skeletons) in the image are "holding death at arm's length", with many variations of skeletons in various active poses. Given the form, the repeat of the striking first line (Our hearts were formed before our bones) is not only emotionally but also biologically correct with the 3rd line repeat (I listen to the metronome), marking the passage of time like a heart beating. Judith brought up a personal anecdote of being in a drawing class where the teacher, like a demanding metronome demanding exactitude, forced her to re-do a drawing 4 times. (The drawing did win a prize however!) One does hope practice with a metronome will enable mastery. It doesn't skip beats, but it also puts creativity at risk, which is a second theme in the poem. The short 4-syllable sentences at the end ( I try to paint. The palette's dry. It's getting late.) add an element of urgency.
Creative process, self-judgement (the question, "what else do I really know about myself" ) go hand in hand facing an "empty canvass", with the "groan" of long O's and A's so unlike the relentless sound of the tick-tick of a metronome. Perhaps the "Opposing" in the title refers to the inner heart as metronome, as Richard punned, the inward thinking vs. thinking "outloud". Another poem that engaged us all.
A dead whale can feed an entire ecosystem-- but in this poem nothing dies.
In the spirit of a villanelle, the idea is repeated with a dolphin, trapped in a river who swam a great distance to die only to have the poet refute it by confessing, "I lied". In both cases, the first word in the stanza break after "die" is "alone.
Echoing the opening quote, ("For any poem to render meaning, it must first coax its reader into becoming an accomplice"), the poet in this poem uses the word coax -- as a desperate plea followed by a line and stanza break, for poetry to change things starting with the rescue of whales, dolphins, trapped cats, sea birds from the damage humans have created on this planet. The poet emphasizes the need for bravery, uses her "brave voice" no matter what hurricane, rip current, toxic algal bloom, or other disaster looms ahead. But the bravery comes knowing we can't control what lives or dies. Perhaps the plea, tell me, that appeal to the reader, is to join in, take her hand. Axel pointed out sea creatures don't have hands, and perhaps ours can be put to use to help them.
Normally opposing terms, Paul pointed out the poet is not truly using "oxymorons", rather words put together which if separated seem odd bedfellows indeed. We chuckled that "famous" is indeed a rare companion for "poet". But some did not care for this slant attack on firearms, divorce, monetary and political coinages . The poem's apex come in the last line of the 4th stanza: "these phrases want to have it both ways" -- line and stanza break -- "sag at the middle like decrepit beds."
Without: An enigmatic poem, both elegy and love poem, as if imagining the end of the world. This site, gives a detailed analysis: https://poemanalysis.com/joy-harjo/without/Axel shared the term "optimistic nihilist"... and another term, "paleo-anarchist" came up. Will the world keep on trudging through time without us? Some saw a literal attendance at a story contest, ruminating on the power of stories, others a more metaphorical implication of a story contest. One person saw a parallel with the Whale poem, pointing out how we rationalize, but that doesn't let us off the hook for being responsible for our actions. Although there is no punctuation, the poem has clear enjambments which reinforce emotion -- whether or not those looking at the world are seeing real or metaphorical story tellers, they watch from "the edge/of grief and heartbreak". I was intrigued by the interruptive "and... and"
seeing the "design of the two-minded creature/
[and know why half the world... and the other half...]
//through the smoke of cooking fires, lovers' trysts, and endless//
human industry.
[the "interruptive and /and :those who fight righteously, and those who nail it all back together -- both share the cooking fires, trysts and enjambed "endless/human industry".
One feels the words breathing as if in a song circle, "timeless weave of breathing". In the final line, are the hyenas laughing, or the people? Being in the desert, difficult to imagine hyenas have much opportunity to drink rain water. Is this yet another metaphor?
I highly recommend the analysis link.
Archive and Exodus: From Sunlight Press. After contacting Sunlight Press, I received the email of the poet and Kathy was reassured that the procedure of this fine review is first to select a poem, then match it with a visual image. It was sheer coincidence that the photograph of the Konark Sun Temple by Navneet Shanu (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Konark_Sun_Temple) matched the poem so perfectly!
In my letter to the poet I mentioned our discussion : how we were reminded a bit of Oxymandias (Shelley) perhaps with a twist of Keats' Ode on Melancholy. Another participant was reminded of American Ramble by Neil King which explores memory and renewal.
How to "purge" what we don't want to be reminded of? How to keep what we want for ever? We enjoyed comparing Mnemosyne (archive) and Lethe -- and you will see, to keep the poems to 4 pages, I broke the poem into two parts. I am curious why you chose to use only one stanza. We enjoyed your treatment of such polarity but were a little stuck on this powerful line : "I'll keep it as a letter/holds a sound"-- imagining an association with the Sun Temple* which the editors chose to accompany your poem as "wheel" and "circle".
His answer: The inspiration for the poem (like much of my current work) is the raising of my daughters in troubling times and how so much of what we experience on an average day must be held in as close to a state of permanence as possible (the archive). I like playing with digital allusions and mentions alongside more classical references (which is where my literary heart lies), but the exodus segment felt fitting to smash into the same stanza only because so much of what we encounter must be held on to as we often strive to push out that which we long to forget.
At the time of writing, I was reading Megan Wilson's stunning new translation of The Iliad and was caught by the breathtaking violence paired together with moments of true grandeur and heroism--how so much of what can be memorialized also stands amidst terror. I wrote the poem about six months ago.
He didn't elaborate on my mention of his credentials: in "Crack the Spine" (2012): Jimmy Neenan educates the masses of irate seventeen year olds with the likes of comic books, video clips, and a short story here and there. He holds a bachelor’s in English Literature from University of Colorado at Boulder and a secondary language arts teaching license in Colorado. His work has appeared recently in the Piker Press, Pig in a Poke Magazine, The Tomfoolery Review, and the Dog Oil Press, to name a few.
**
full correspondance below
Hello!
I am a fan of Sunlight Press and was so intrigued by your poem "Archive and Exodus", I selected it for discussion in my weekly gathering of poems here in Pittsford and Rochester, New York. [ I started this 18 years ago, and each week select poems to fill 4 pages which we read aloud and then discuss.
So you can see the other poems with yours, this was the line-up:]
Congratulations on your poem! We were reminded a bit of Oxymandias (Shelley) perhaps with a twist of Keats' Ode on Melancholy. Another participant was reminded of American Ramble by Neil King which explores memory and renewal.
How to "purge" what we don't want to be reminded of? How to keep what we want for ever? We enjoyed comparing Mnemosyne (archive) and Lethe -- and you will see, to keep the poems to 4 pages, I broke the poem into two parts. I am curious why you chose to use only one stanza. We enjoyed your treatment of such polarity but were a little stuck on this powerful line : "I'll keep it as a letter/holds a sound"--
imagining an association with the Sun Temple* which the editors chose to accompany your poem as "wheel" and "circle". In fact, one person was convinced that you had proposed the photograph, so we contacted the editor to find out. They kindly provided us with your email.
We would be most pleased if you wanted to share more about the inspiration behind this poem.
When was it written? I did find this 2012 mention of you in "Crack the Spine": Jimmy Neenan educates the masses of irate seventeen year olds with the likes of comic books, video clips, and a short story here and there. He holds a bachelor’s in English Literature from University of Colorado at Boulder and a secondary language arts teaching license in Colorado. His work has appeared recently in the Piker Press, Pig in a Poke Magazine, The Tomfoolery Review, and the Dog Oil Press, to name a few.
The inspiration for the poem (like much of my current work) is the raising of my daughters in troubling times and how so much of what we experience on an average day must be held in as close to a state of permanence as possible (the archive). I like playing with digital allusions and mentions alongside more classical references (which is where my literary heart lies), but the exodus segment felt fitting to smash into the same stanza only because so much of what we encounter must be held on to as we often strive to push out that which we long to forget.
At the time of writing, I was reading Megan Wilson's stunning new translation of The Iliad and was caught by the breathtaking violence paired together with moments of true grandeur and heroism--how so much of what can be memorialized also stands amidst terror. I wrote the poem about six months ago.
Correspondence:
Hi Kitty,
Thank you so much for letting us know how much your group appreciated the poem and the image. I thought this poem was particularly difficult to illustrate. I never know how an image will land with a reader. It was a nice surprise to hear your poetry group appreciated this particular image and the fact that it generated so much discussion. So lovely that you reached out to us!
Thanks so much! I don't see why permission is needed to discuss a poem from our site. I love that the group delved into both the poem and image, and glad you have liked some of our poem/art pairings. Some poems are pretty tricky to illustrate as I'm sure you can imagine! I also am glad for you to spread the word about Sunlight within your group. As I'd shared with Kathy, Jimmy would likely appreciate your choosing his poem for discussion. (I'm not sure we heard from him after publishing now that you mention it. Hope he liked the accompanying art!).
My query
You will see, one of the participants of my weekly group contacted you! We so enjoyed the pairing of the poem and photo. I am amazed at how beautifully you do this poem after poem! I am glad you enjoy it so much-- and hope that hearing how gratifying it is to the readership makes the "time-consuming" part feel worthwhile.
You mentioned the Poet Jimmy Neenan might enjoy hearing our comments -- could you send me his email?
I want to be sure also, is it enough to have the link to Sunlight Press with the poem/photo to credit you-- or should I have asked permission first? I am very naive about how this works, and confess, for 18 years now, have blithely have been choosing good poems without paying attention to this.
