It's raining, it's pouring

Scenes from the University District street fair: lots of booths selling insurance or pictures of wolves or recruiting people to be atheists or bus commuters; people eating fried dough in the pouring rain; me walking through it clutching a giant tome about punctuation.

My new-poetry-mentor called something in one of my poems a "self-dissolving declaration," and I've realized that all my poems kind of work that way. Everything turns into its own opposite pretty much as soon as it hits the page. No wonder people say my poems are cryptic. I'm very pleased that NPM thought through them and understood.

Here's a question: should I write my second paper of the year about Wordsworth and Coleridge, or should I write about someone more contemporary? It might make more sense to work in my actual so-called period, but the class is about W&C and I'm kind of getting into them. Plus, poor Wordsworth! He's so maligned I always want to defend him.