My Feet Are Gonna Tap

Thursday night at The Gold Mine Saloon. A short night for 17 poets (only about 5 poets actually), but a great night to be there. Most of the poems had a Katrina theme. Some worked to soothe the pained soul of fellow displaced travelers, some sought solace in humor and some simply poured out pain and confusion. The last poet of the evening had come in from Dallas where he is hunkered down for the time being. His name is Stan Beemis and he closed his crazy, chaotic Katrina poem by declaring, "As long as my feet are planted on this earth, MY FEET ARE GONNA TAP!"

Stan Beemis made my night.


After the poets I wandered down Bourbon in search of a cab (they're pretty scarce these days) to catch home. That experience I phoned in...