As of April third, I was three for three on attending poetry events. On Friday, a DC-area poet held a reading at her house. It was beyond lovely to see good friends I don’t get to see as much as I’d like.

On Sunday, I visited the National Museum of Women in the Arts to read from the Wom-Po (women’s poetry) listserv anthology. I read a poem by Paula Bohince; we read together on April 13 in Arlington, VA.

In transit to the Sunday reading, a Slumdog Millionaire situation happened. I ran into a friend on the train platform. What is the big deal, you might ask. 1) She lives in California. 2) We missed each other by one day at the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts (VCCA). 3) She was staying in the far-far-far-out suburbs and happened to be in DC this one particular afternoon on a side trip from the VCCA.

Monday night led me to Chevy Chase where I listened to Rosemary Winslow and Barbara Crooker read from their poetry books. I took my secret way through the city to get there and arrived at just the right time to nab the all-important parking space.

I took Tuesday off. On Wednesday, I saw Neko Case. She talked about National Poetry Month and her lyrics are poetic. Does that count as poetry?