so, i'm bringing some very strong poems to residency. who wouldn't? they are going to be scrutinzed. we are told not to bring finished poems, per se. but to bring poems in process. not first drafts.
ha!
can you call what i do a first draft? it is as near a final draft as anything. we'll see. i plan on choosing a tough advisor this semester. it is what i must do. i figure, being guided down some path (and, arguably struggling through it), is better than fighting phantoms alone.
i am tired of fighting phantoms.
it comes up all the time, and i considered driving away in the middle of our day together because she said i am conjuring you. which may in fact be true.
but i can't not want you with me even in misty form.
however, i'm ready now to move on. ready for the tangible. i've loved the intangible for too long.
and now, while she tells me to cast you away, i determine to look at you one last long gaze. and if you walk out of shadow, so be it.
if not, i will find the strength to move on. i must.
fare thee well beloved.
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