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Why We Kvetch About School

     It's a job, right?  It's a well-paying, engaging job, working with other writers, talking about poetry, reading together, performing our work.  So why does the start of school always feel like a traffic accident?  Why do we bitch and moan?

     All summer, every day, we wrote.  We wrote poem after poem, draft after draft.  We sometimes entered the "magic world," the place where the poems seem to come from outside us. 

     And then, suddenly, it seems--school.  Meetings.  "Parties" with no booze.  More meetings.  Syllabae-making where one is called upon to leave the world of interconnected non-linear thinking and make lists, account for time.

     There's the makeup to put on, the hair to wash and brush, the clean clothes.

     We had promised ourselves to keep the writing going.   The first few days back at the university make it clear we're going to have to be more flexible and forgiving toward our creative selves.  But once we're in that classroom, let the writing begin again.  Let's take the students with us into the world of poetry and music.  The bridge is wide enough for all of us. We may not meet in the magic world, but we'll have been there.  We'll bring back sparks.

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Sparks, Eh?

Prometheus.

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Sparks

At least.  If not full-blown conflagrations of words and sounds, rhythms and sensory details, dreams and dreams.

 

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Sparks

Hope the sparks fly out of the bounds and you get some wild fires going.

 

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Love it! Thanks, Sue!

From your mouth to God's ear, as my grandmother used to say!  Tomorrow is the first day of student poetry.  I will be gentle!

All cheers to you and your work!

Marilyn