As a child, the night before the first day of school always found me lying in bed, eyes wide open. I would envision meeting new people in my classes, bending the spine on a fresh notebook, opening the box of sharp chalky colored pencils. In those days of uniforms and far too early wake up calls, the night owl in me emerged.
Just last night, I began packing for school. Can I begin to say the word excited / tres heureuse / muy alegre! This residency will be held on campus and I am looking forward to resuming some conversations begun in January with quirky kindred spirits who see the world in word images, looking for the right poem in which to take up residency. With this voyage comes the revealing of my new mentor. I have thoroughly enjoyed working with Alicia. Her comments to me on my writing and work are precious. She is precious with insights like the pencil-marked “ha!” found jotted out in the margins, next to bits she thinks are particularly clever or fun.
Being an artist involves more than the gift or talent. There is a honing of the skill and practice of the craft necessary. Where emotions are concerned, they are to be funneled into the writing. Passion is a double edged sword in its own way though. Passionate people do seem excited, vivacious, energetic, but these belong to only one end of the spectrum. On the other end lives the moody blues and they I find, sometimes produce the best thoughts on paper.
Somehow it has come up often and lately that I should:
a.) read some of my poems aloud somewhere
b.) get published
And my response to these statements are yes and yes. Soon and very. For now, though, I relish in the anticipation of new words, new images tangling themselves in my mind during the professional rest afforded by a jaunt with the small bandy of poetic renegades in a state far and away from the everyday noises and blur.
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