I've returned successfully to brooklyn after living a week in the wilds of vermont. Honestly, I wish I was still there on many levels... someone to cook for me, clean, only talking about poetry & writing, & art. Spending time with good & interesting people. No real job. Just reading & reading & reading.
Now I have to return to the "real" world. Work on monday, & I have to sink into this system of working in packets to send to my advisor every few weeks. This is going to be the hard part...
remembering I'm in school. (Even though I'm sure it will be over before I know it, & I'll have an MFA & I'll be trying to do something with that).
I started the missoula. project while I was away. one single glistening poem composed in half an hour & workshopped the next day. I see the roots, & I think this is going to work out, make itself.
photos:
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| puddle jumper. |
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| walk to the dorms. |
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| campus & the haunted martin manor. |
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| fire. |
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| the long walk to the library. |
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| outside. |
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| campus & the clockhouse. |
