The other day the mail man (and it is man) delivered  package from my father. Actually, I’m not sure when it arrived. My father claims that he sent it something like a month ago, but I’m not sure if it’s true. We have two apartments and one of them is mainly used by my partner for her business. Things get lost there.

This particular package contained a lit mag called Harbor Stories, so named after the town Palm Harbor (a few miles north of where I grew up). A writing group called the Palm Harbor Society for the Novel put it out.  The mag was perfect bound with a picture of the harbor as the cover (not a great looking picture; I suspect the resolution wasn’t high enough for print). My loving father was featured twice, once for his short story Tienes Fosforo and once for one of his stories about a lawyer in small town Arkansas (the fictional town of Eclectic). The first story won first prize in the group’s short story.

Being me, after reading my father’s pieces, I went to the poetry. Nothing special, to be quite honest. I would surmise that most of the poets do not read much contemporary poetry.

This is not intended as a plug for contemporary poetry. One doesn’t have to like it. One could prefer Byron or Marvell or Whitman. But it is important to read it, to be aware of contemporary currents and strategies and I’m not sure these particularly poets are.