Portland Poetry Reading

I did it. 

In a certain way it wasn't a big deal. Some friends and family (about 16 people in all) came together to hear me read from my book. No big deal.

In another sense, I poured out my heart and soul on the page, exposed my vulnerability and then presented it all publicly and tried to sell it. 

Either way, everyone was smiling.

How are you supposed to feel after that?

To begin, I'm a little tipsy as my friend took me after for a beer (that I did deserve). I also feel relieved and a little proud.

I definitely have accomplished something. I've written good poetry on and off over a period of about 12 years. I've collected it together. I've arranged it. I've revised it (how many times?). I've printed it up in a book, advertised to a limited audience and now sold 10 copies. 

On the other  hand, I have not proven a thing.

If Billy Collins or some other amazing poet told me I was good, I would be ecstatic.

But then, just like now, I would go on with my life and all the feelings of uncertainty and insecurity would be just the same.

I am here in this moment, and it's a little special. 

Hello, moment.