DeWolf Terrier

Sometimes I wonder what's stopping me from acting on impulses at inappropriate times. Case in point: anytime a poet reads at Good Thunder, I feel the urge to bark. Not like a doberman or a lab. No. When the poets read, I want to yelp like a terrier. Or any of those small, yappity little shits that obviously have anxiety issues.

After the readings, I have an idea as to why I didn't bark during the event. There's the whole social decency aspect, and the fear of being yelled at by some faculty member I don't know. But while the reading's taking place, I think, "What's stopping me from letting out a harmless little bark?"

Absolutely nothing. And don't think I haven't come close, either. Holy shit. During Beth Ann Fennelly, I almost cracked. When Bob Hicok read, I looked around and thought, "I am actually about to do this." And when Li-Young Lee was here, well, that time I almost burst into flames. But there may have been other forces at work that time.

I've never barked during a Good Thunder reading. What I find to be odd is the fact that this impulse only occurs when the reader is a poet. Though, in a similar sense, I always wanted to yell in church when I was a kid. Mainly during the congregational prayer. That would have been amazing.

Anyway, I believe the reason I want to bark during the poets' readings has to do with their deliveries. It's nothing against the poets or their work. But let's face it: many poets have that fluttery, deliberate way of reading. Not all poets, but a whole hell of a lot of them do this. You know exactly where their line breaks occur, and the end result is a boatload of downtime.

Downtime makes me antsy. Nervous. Jittery. Anxious.

ARF!