Sat., Feb. 25, 2017
3 – 5 p.m.
Lou’s Brew Café and Lounge
233 E. College Ave., Appleton
Celebrate The Mill’s achievements over the past year, discover upcoming events, and enjoy a short reading by Wisconsin poet laureate and The Mill’s own teacher, Karla Huston at the launch of her new book, Grief Bone.
The afternoon will include free appetizers and a cash bar.
3:00 – 3:30 Social
3:30 – 3:45 The Mill in review and moving forward
3:45 – 4:15 Celebrate Wisconsin poet Laureate, Karla Huston, including a reading from her new book Grief Bone
Meet other writers, talk to teachers, immerse yourself in a literary blanket of friendship.
If you plan to attend, please sign up on the Eventbrite form on our website or simply show up. We’d love to see you.
A poet laureate, so says Wikipedia, is a, or the poet officially appointed by a government or conferring institution, who, by virtue of the office is typically expected to compose poems for special events and occasions.
In ancient Greece, the laurel was used to form a crown or wreath of honor for poets and heroes (one and the same?). To put a familiar name to the concept, the Italian poet Petrarch was among the first poet laureates of the post-Classical world. In English, the term, laureate, has come to signify recognition for preeminence or superlative achievement.
The Mill’s own Karla Huston has been justly and belatedly named Wisconsin Poet Laureate. Here is a poem of hers that is one of my favorites. It is from her 2013 chapbook, Outside Of A Dog (the title from Groucho Marx’s remark: “Outside of a dog, a book is a man’s best friend. Inside of a dog it’s too dark to read.”). Here’s “Dog Barking at Door”
Because she knows the mailman,
the paper carrier, the neighbor
will leave if she keeps at it.
Because the street light is a daytime
moon and somewhere a bird
has hit a window, fallen
three feet before shaking its head
awake finally to the reflection.
Because the dog has an angry frog
In her throat, a prince caught in a nasty
fantasy. Because in her dreams
she smells a rabbit leaving
trails in the clover, a cat
somewhere rubbing, another dog
somewhere pissing on a somewhere
tree. In her dreams, her legs
tread imaginary water. Because once
the bark wire is tripped, she cannot
stop; she’s afraid to stop,
worried someone might touch her,
stop the dog barking
in her head
which sounds like other dogs
barking, barking, calling her home.