Annual Meeting

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.

 

Ave, Karla!

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.

 

 

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