1 — I was Little Miss Cheerleader, and I still have the hot pink trophy to prove it. Actually I came in 3rd… but who’s counting. I only quit cheerleading when the everyday practices (not even for competition, mind you) conflicted with my obligations to the environmental club. That was around the same time I traded in my Bobby Brown tapes for R.E.M., swapped my stretch jeans for extra baggy t-shirts and jeans, grew out my perm, and stopped trying to make my bangs look like Everest.

2 — During my freshman year of college I had to go through drug & alcohol awareness classes. It was all because my dopey friend thought the R.A. wouldn’t notice the 40 of OE he was drinking from a sock while talking to his girlfriend on the phone in the hall outside his dorm room. Yeah, that didn’t work out so well for him… or the rest of us, who were imbibing discreetly in the room.

3 — I have a fairly large & extensive collection of Minnie Mouse paraphernalia. I was 7, my grandparents lived in Florida, and it just stuck. That’s all there is to say about that.

4 — I snuck into a Counting Crows concert in London. The show was sold out, it was at the student union at the University of London — a space certainly no bigger than the Troc (and this was well after the Counting Crows were playing much larger venues here in the States). While my friend and I were standing around looking pathetic, this toothless old Brit said he could get us in for 20 quid, which was actually less than the cost of the ticket. We paid him, he snuck us up a series of staircases and through several back rooms. Just when we resigned ourselves to ending up in a back alley, he pushed us through this door that opened out to the right of the stage, about 5 rows back. Best show ever.

5 — I *heart* the self checkout at the grocery store. When I was a kid, I really wanted to be a grocery bagger. (Queue up “High Hopes” by Sinatra.) I loved the way the scanner thing beeped and the satisfaction of getting a cart full of stuff packed into a few neat bags. In fact, my biggest pet peeve is still those baggers at the store who just throw your stuff in the bag all willy nilly. That’s just wrong!

I’m gonna buck the system and not tag anyone. Merry Christmas to all of you who might have gotten tagged. This is the last time you get off so easy.

1. The first poem I remember reading/hearing/reacting to was…

When I was little, I had this fat book of nursery rhymes. It was like a phone book — just that thick, with the thin colored-paper pages. I don’t remember which one was my favorite. But I used to sit in my room on my bed just reading them outloud to myself.

2. I was forced to memorize (name of poem) in school and…

I don’t remember ever being forced to memorize any piece poetry… but I think that’s probably because most times when poetry is forced on someone, it leaves a negative imprint. If not, if it’s just given, then it becomes a part of their life. I was lucky enough that poetry was given to me.

3. I read/don’t read poetry because…

I read poetry because a good poem, a good line of poetry — when it’s really reached the level of art — can make me tingle, can make me cry, can make me feel like I just got punched in the stomach. And it can change the way I see the world — it can bring me to a whole new level of understanding. Recently, I keep hearing/reading poems that remind me of friends — but more than a memory, the poems give me a whole new vocabulary for thinking about those people. That’s such a gift.

4. A poem I’m likely to think about when asked about a favorite poem is…

Lawrence Ferlinghetti’s “I Am You” :
…. I am alone here
but if there were two of us
I would say
there is only one here…

It’s the first “favorite poem” I ever had. It’s a love poem, but it’s very real, corporeal, human. I could feel it. I would get so wrapped up in it, I’d forget to breathe. I know, I know, it’s sounds melodramatic… but it’s absolutely true. The best poems leave you breathless.

5. I write/don’t write poetry, but…

I write poetry, but I’m a total sucker for cliches. And I guess by that I mean: My name is Autumn, and I’m addicted to Dawson’s Creek reruns, Julia Roberts movies, and hair bands.

6. My experience with reading poetry differs from my experience with reading other types of literature…

because poetry happens so fast you don’t really have time to give up or look away.

7. I find poetry…

all over the place. I think every day we are making poems, we just don’t always write them down. So, me, I try to take in the details, so that when I do put it down on paper it’s right. Or as close to right as I can make it.

8. The last time I heard poetry…

was last night at B&N in Bryn Mawr, where I hosted a reading that featured Rachel Blau DuPlessis and Jena Osman. I have to say, it was one of the best readings of the year because it reinvigorated my interest in both poets. I previously struggled a little with their work on the page, but their readings really brought out the energy of their poems. They are both so inventive that their poems really embody the possibility that language has to offer.

9. I think poetry is like…

space — vast, awe-inspiring, full of possibility, seemingly inexplicable but really made of the most base and common stuff of life.

Some folks may be familiar with PoetryClass, an old blog that I’ve kinda abandoned. This blog won’t be quite as thematically focused, but I’m sure to climb up on my soapbox every once in a while.

Otherwise, you can expect event notices and reviews, news about where and what I’m publishing, and general ramblings about what I’m doing, reading, listening to, watching. You should also keep your eyes out for photographic examples of my domestic prowess, including my knitting and baking exploits. Woohoo. Hold onto your hair!