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18

Jul

Kelly McQuain signs in the 18th century garden of Morris House Hotel in Philadelphia.
18 July 2012
Poetgraph #25
Postscript:Kelly was the first poet I met whose work I had never read; back in 2011. I’ve since had the honor of reading his work, and including a few poems in-draft, and certainly put his work in my top five of favorite poets working today. He has quite the sparkle in his eyes.

Kelly McQuain signs in the 18th century garden of Morris House Hotel in Philadelphia.

18 July 2012

Poetgraph #25

Postscript:
Kelly was the first poet I met whose work I had never read; back in 2011. I’ve since had the honor of reading his work, and including a few poems in-draft, and certainly put his work in my top five of favorite poets working today. He has quite the sparkle in his eyes.

Brian Teare signs in the 18th century garden of Morris House Hotel in Philadelphia.
18 July 2012
Poetgraph #24
Postscript:I had the pleasure of hearing Brian read last autumn at Giovanni’s Room in Philadelphia. That afternoon, and this evening, he’s such a sincere, almost so beautifully spoken of a person, you almost forget you’re actually listening to a poet and not a god; but who’s to say they’re not one in the same?

Brian Teare signs in the 18th century garden of Morris House Hotel in Philadelphia.

18 July 2012

Poetgraph #24

Postscript:
I had the pleasure of hearing Brian read last autumn at Giovanni’s Room in Philadelphia. That afternoon, and this evening, he’s such a sincere, almost so beautifully spoken of a person, you almost forget you’re actually listening to a poet and not a god; but who’s to say they’re not one in the same?

13

Jul

Jim Cory signs at Marathon Grill in Philadelphia.
13 July 2012
Poetgraph #23
Postscript: “We have flowers inside,” he writes just before midnight.

Jim Cory signs at Marathon Grill in Philadelphia.

13 July 2012

Poetgraph #23

Postscript: “We have flowers inside,” he writes just before midnight.

06

Jul

Rita Dove signs at her home in Charlottesville, Virginia.
Poetgraph #22
June 2012
Postscript:Her poetry frequents my nightstand and my jetplanes. 

Rita Dove signs at her home in Charlottesville, Virginia.

Poetgraph #22

June 2012

Postscript:
Her poetry frequents my nightstand and my jetplanes. 

02

Jul

Jericho Brown signs at his home in San Diego, California.
June 2012
Poetgraph #21
Postscript: There’s 3 things in life that I love. A great smile, great poetry, and a website with flash. Jericho delivers all three: Click Here. 

Jericho Brown signs at his home in San Diego, California.

June 2012

Poetgraph #21

Postscript: There’s 3 things in life that I love. A great smile, great poetry, and a website with flash. Jericho delivers all three: Click Here

27

Jun

R.J. Gibson signs at his house in Buckhannon, West Virginia.
Poetgraph #20
June 2012
Postscript:RJ and the RX remix.Thanks for reminding me I need to get my Ambien refilled. 

R.J. Gibson signs at his house in Buckhannon, West Virginia.

Poetgraph #20

June 2012

Postscript:
RJ and the RX remix.
Thanks for reminding me I need to get my Ambien refilled. 

07

Jun

Brent Goodman signs at his home in Rhinelander, Wisconsin.
01 May 2012
Poetgraph #19
Postscript:Brent used to keep a blog, which is how I found him. Then he wrote an award-winning poetry collection (it deserved a Lammy and a Pulitzer), The Brother Swimming Beneath Me, which is a regular on my nightstand. Then he had a sudden massive heart attack and it scared the shit out of everyone in the poetry community, among others. But this beauty sees just that in everything and he’s put life to pen, again, with his forthcoming Far From Sudden book. Meanwhile, Brent and his partner have agreed to be my date to a performance at Madison Opera next year. It’s going to be a very lovely evening that will be over with, in my opinion, far too suddenly.

Brent Goodman signs at his home in Rhinelander, Wisconsin.

01 May 2012

Poetgraph #19

Postscript:
Brent used to keep a blog, which is how I found him. Then he wrote an award-winning poetry collection (it deserved a Lammy and a Pulitzer), The Brother Swimming Beneath Me, which is a regular on my nightstand. Then he had a sudden massive heart attack and it scared the shit out of everyone in the poetry community, among others. But this beauty sees just that in everything and he’s put life to pen, again, with his forthcoming Far From Sudden book. Meanwhile, Brent and his partner have agreed to be my date to a performance at Madison Opera next year. It’s going to be a very lovely evening that will be over with, in my opinion, far too suddenly.

06

Jun

Poet Collin Kelley signs at his home in Atlanta, Georgia.
23 May 2012
Poetgraph # 18
Postscript:In September 2008 I had a one hour lay-over at Atlanta’s Jackson-Hartsfield Extra Large Airport and agreed to meet my three-year strong blog buddy Collin Kelley in the food court (where else would two foodies meet?). This meant leaving the security checkpoint which meant having to go back through it to make my connecting jet. Collin was coming from downtown and wound-up getting stuck in traffic, or so was his excuse. I rushed through the point-of-no-return and into the food court where I have 30 minutes before my connecting flight leaves. I text message Collin and say I better head back in so I don’t miss my flight and boy did that lite his panties on fire. He left me a voicemail screaming like a mad banshee at an octave so high it was questionable as to if it was produced by a human. All I could make out was “I left work early” and “I’m burning the fuck up sitting in traffic with no A/C” and “It’s my fucking birthday” and “for you, you little bitch.” I stayed put. The last thing you want to do is piss-off a queen who’s obsessed with 1970s pop culture. Collin soon arrived in his trademark black t-shirt, we had a quick celebration of his birthday, and I ran back to my gate and jetted to San Francisco.
See the YouTube video of our fateful Airport meeting here.
In an ironic twist of fate, as I write this, Collin is on a plane over the Atlantic ocean going to some party for the Queen in London.

Poet Collin Kelley signs at his home in Atlanta, Georgia.

23 May 2012

Poetgraph # 18

Postscript:
In September 2008 I had a one hour lay-over at Atlanta’s Jackson-Hartsfield Extra Large Airport and agreed to meet my three-year strong blog buddy Collin Kelley in the food court (where else would two foodies meet?). This meant leaving the security checkpoint which meant having to go back through it to make my connecting jet. Collin was coming from downtown and wound-up getting stuck in traffic, or so was his excuse. I rushed through the point-of-no-return and into the food court where I have 30 minutes before my connecting flight leaves. I text message Collin and say I better head back in so I don’t miss my flight and boy did that lite his panties on fire. He left me a voicemail screaming like a mad banshee at an octave so high it was questionable as to if it was produced by a human. All I could make out was “I left work early” and “I’m burning the fuck up sitting in traffic with no A/C” and “It’s my fucking birthday” and “for you, you little bitch.” I stayed put. The last thing you want to do is piss-off a queen who’s obsessed with 1970s pop culture. Collin soon arrived in his trademark black t-shirt, we had a quick celebration of his birthday, and I ran back to my gate and jetted to San Francisco.

See the YouTube video of our fateful Airport meeting here.

In an ironic twist of fate, as I write this, Collin is on a plane over the Atlantic ocean going to some party for the Queen in London.

Ruben Quesada signs at his home in Lubbock, Texas.
22 May 2012
Poetgraph # 17
Postscript:Ruben wrote my favorite poet book of 2011, Next Extinct Mammal, and until I’m extinct sometime in the 2070s I’ll read his poetry. If I could take one poet on a desert island with me, instead of a Wilson soccer ball, it would be Ruben.

Ruben Quesada signs at his home in Lubbock, Texas.

22 May 2012

Poetgraph # 17

Postscript:
Ruben wrote my favorite poet book of 2011, Next Extinct Mammal, and until I’m extinct sometime in the 2070s I’ll read his poetry. If I could take one poet on a desert island with me, instead of a Wilson soccer ball, it would be Ruben.

04

Jun

Julie E. Bloemeke signs at her home in Atlanta, Georgia.
May 2012
Poetgraph # 16
Postscript:This project can only have one Sweet Sixteen and I’m glad it’s Julie.

Julie E. Bloemeke signs at her home in Atlanta, Georgia.

May 2012

Poetgraph # 16

Postscript:
This project can only have one Sweet Sixteen and I’m glad it’s Julie.