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Reports from a Small Press Burnout: the Performance Poet
He was a drama major at MU.
He took voice lessons, studied the art of gesticulation and facial movement.
He can say volumes with just an eyebrow.
He combs his hair, dresses tastefully. He doesn’t want anything to distract the audience from his art. He wants to connect with the largest number of people, like a real estate agent or a car salesman.
He’s got a nice smile, a complexion a 24-year-old girl would kill for. What’s his secret? Does he sleep in a vat of Vaseline?
He supports arts and teachers. He’s very supportive, he’s passionate about being supportive. In fact, he IS a teacher. He loves his job. He’s like a supercool teacher on a PBS special who treats all the students fairly, even the poor and the homely and the stupid ones.
He is severe when needed and compassionate when needed.
He’s a good guy, he’ll loan you a dollar. Or a pencil.
He corrects his friends’ grammar at barbecues. He knows how irritating that is but he still does it.
It’s cute, he can laugh at himself.
He’s a regular fella.
People adore him, he is simply adored.
