Friday, February 19, 2010
Always a Bridesmaid: Singing the Finalist Blues
Just call me your maid, your matron, your maybe yes, but then again maybe no. Just call me your my what a good read, definitely worth its weight in taffeta, in tulle, though not quite bridal. Not quite as good as this other one . . . this one over here with more brocade, more bric-a-brac, more moxy. My, my that's what's missing: moxy! mitzy! glitzy! More with the rondeau, less with the run-around Sue. Your manuscript needs a tiara. Your manuscript needs more tamari. Your manuscript should be wearing a sari. No, no! Now you've made it too salty (bring me, please, a cool glass of water, a cruel gaff of saunter). The middle poem needs a saltapus. The first poem needs more rumpus. Get your sections in line, sexy. Get out your suctions, lazy. Get to the back of the line, you crazy almost-bride.