His response came at twilight when the deer come in

Pardon me for eating while blogging but I get so darn hungry. The chicken is marvelous, juicy and flavorful. Ada told me they were having rotisserie chicken last nite so when I was in the supermarket today I bought some thighs. I baked it with fresh basil, carrots, mushrooms, and my raw egg & olive oil dressing. I was too lazy to add garlic. I was speaking on my hands-free phone to a former client of mine whom we'll call Andrea who calls me from time to time.

"Get thee to a new psychiatrist," I told her. She's been doctoring w/this one fellow for an entire year. She's substantially better but he doesn't seem to know how to medicate her. She's never been on Lamictal which is an obvious first choice for a woman who can't get out of bed in the morning.

I gave her Waldfogel's name, my current favorite.

When it comes to poets, my absolute favorite that I know personally, tho not well, is Christopher Bursk. Simply typing up his name conjures up my first meeting with the man maybe ten years ago when I worked as a therapist at Bristol-Bensalem. He came to meet me at The Atrium where I had this huge office, really the conference room, cuz they didn't know where to put me.

I was superstitious and refused to put up any nice decorations in my office cuz every time I did that, they'd move me to a new office, so I adorned the walls with old calendars. They simply hung on the wall, all these beautiful scenes, including a B&W calendar of Ansel Adams views. One day one of my clients discovered a trick I did with the calendars.

My job was to give a preliminary diagnosis before the psychiatrist saw them. There were so many codes. Instead of looking in my DSM-IV, I looked up at my calendars where in bold black Magic Marker I listed the most popular codes w/o their names. The only one I remember was - oops! - can't remember it. One of my clients discovered this and we laughed about it.

So there in the waiting room is Chris Bursk - ah, his long lean figure is towering in front of me right now - wearing that same long-sleeve thermal undershirt he wore when I met him. He was as confident & loose-limbed as a racehorse and I thought, Hmmmm, what a great new janitor we've hired. Of course, he was a professor at Bucks County College and a wonderful poet.

He returned to me a sheaf of poems I'd mailed him. Over the phone, he'd asked me how many poems I'd wrin. He wanted all of them. I lied and said I'd only written about 20 cuz I was too lazy to print out all 75 or so of em.

His writing was cryptic but I understood the STARS and EXCLAMATION POINTS he wrote on my papers.

Only yesterday, when a fellow poet mailed me a study showing that Verse Broadens Our Minds, I forwarded it to some poets I know including Bursk. He thanked me for it last nite and I took the liberty of emailing my latest poem 1921: Birth of a Son.

My heart pitter-pattered when he wrote me back just now. Here's what he wrote:

wow!!!!
powerful poem!
thanks for sharing it

Chris Bursk

WHEW! I passed muster.

A day or so ago I was driving down my street. If I could be known for anything in the world, I thought, it would be as a Poet.

Last nite I had a sensual experience in bed but I couldn't find any paper to write about it. I'll try to write about it to read at our Bonfire Friday nite. If no one likes it, I'll..........