Last night, we went to Kollective Coffee in downtown Hot Springs. The primary purpose was for me to meet with a woman to discuss the possibility of her speaking to our local writers’ group. But, since I was going to be there and yesterday was Wednesday, I thought I’d like to stay for Wednesday Night Poetry, a Hot Springs institution since 1989. Last night was the one thousand, three hundred seventy second (1372nd) consecutive Wednesday Night Poetry event, I learned while listening to the emcee, Bud Kenny. I also learned that Bud Kenny has written and just published a book entitled “Footloose In America: Dixie to Maine.” Being the curious sort, I checked in out online. It’s available through Amazon.
The book details the journey he and his wife, Patricia, and their mule, Della, undertook between 2001 and 2008. They walked from Hot Springs, Arkansas to the coast of Maine, stopping along the way to winter in Indiana, and New York. Subsequently, they walked to, and wintered in, Massachusetts and a different spot in New York.
Bud was a founder of Wednesday Night Poetry and owned the Poet’s Loft, where WNP was held for a number of years.
Since I would be there, I decided to take some poems I’d written for the “open mic” segment of the program. I read two poems. After the Feature Poet’s set ended, we got up to leave and Bud approached me and asked if I’d be interested in being a Feature Poet sometime soon. I said I had already been Feature Poet once, last year; he said that doesn’t matter: would you be interested in doing it again? He wanted me there three weeks from last night, which won’t work for me, but I said I could be available later. He asked me to email him dates I’d be able to read. And so I will.
Over a late dinner of pizza at Angel’s, just up the street, my wife suggested I might want to invite Bud to speak to our writers’ group. Brilliant! Why didn’t I think of that? Well, she did, and that’s what’s important. And so, when I send him my available dates, I’ll inquire as to his availability, as well.
Life, brought to you through the serendipity of poetry.