tired body, tired mine

i rested some today in the hours my roomie was away, but cramming in my alone time is no good. and i've got workshops tomorrow i've not yet prepared for so it's going to be a late night for me.

or, later than i've been awake here. though in these bright flouresents, i'm suddenly feeling tired.

i was sitting under a path light by the entrance to the commons where i'm staying. reading and saying good night to all the poets and writers walking by on their way to the dorms.

nice spot.

yes. i don't think it will be here tomorrow night.

i'm tired. and alone in that curious peopled way. the i've got an itch you can't scratch for me yet, because we've just met way. the polite, don't show too much way.

but i am amidst poets.

i got workshopped today. and while there were no, and i repeat, no surprises, i am trying to remind myself to listen. to attend. to care. because i don't. i have my work, i have my way of producing my work. if you can help me refine my voice, that's one thing. if you're going to put my work in a poetic blender, fuck you.

that is how i look at it.

not too forgiving. not too openminded about my own work.

but i'm willing to try.

it's the future works these words are for. i don't revise poems. i don't revise anything. i don't go back into the kitchen and rebake the cake. i just make a new one. very culinary in that approach. perhaps that is the best approach.

it has made me think a lot about who i am as a poet. some people say,

i write poetry.

i say,

i'm a poet.

no apologizing for it, it's the fact of the matter.


it was nice to finally meet the prof who recommended me for the program, who got me into the program and encourages me now. he introduced me to his wife and daughter tonight as an excellent poet. which i am humbled by because he is afuckingmazing. he read a snippet of a short story and i told him what i thought about a particular scene, he and his family laughed and he said,

i'm going to steal that.

so, there you have it. the fire of works and critique, the readings and wonders of residency.

i get to sleep on a relatively uncomfortable bed, but i'm trying not to mind it. it is sleep after all, and i've been fortunate. i could be at work. i must remember this.

i've worked so hard to get here, i see how many years i've been laboring to this place. it started out in fits and starts, one poetry reading here, one open mic. now amongst my peers, i feel ready for this, the fullness of time is upon me and the advisor i get will be the right one for this season.

i hope i get the one i want but the odds are slim as i'm a first semester student.

i'm not your average first semester student though, and that, i have in my favor.

it's late, much to do. i could use the love of those who know me. and i'm grateful for what comes.