Last week, I sat at my desk, a pile of student papers before me, a cursor pulsing in the blank document that needed to become an essay draft for workshop. It was 10:00 at night. I wanted to be marathon-ing The Twilight Zone. Across the room, my cat raised her head. She was sitting… Continue reading On Taking My Coffee Mug’s Advice
What can I say? It’s going well. Well, that’s no good. It’s hard and it’s not about the classes. Only just a little, but it’s so much more. It’s the classes and when you’re not in class and when you’re in the city trying to get your shit together and the shit will not stick.… Continue reading First Times, Community & Superstitions
Image: Wally Gobetz When my poetry cohort met up in the forest to drink beers and read political poems to each other, I couldn’t believe that this was my life. Nearly everyone I know in this city is a writer, and I spend most days at the nearby cafe working on my next poem. California… Continue reading Week 6 Already
There is no way to avoid Emily Dickinson as a poet or someone who is studying poetry, same with Walt Whitman. I knew they were going to be chapter one reading in the Contemporary and Modern American Poetry class. I know this because I have signed up for the class two other times with varying… Continue reading The Process and Pathway of a DIY M.F.A
It’s the last September Sunday night in Albuquerque and you can still sit outside barefoot in shorts and watch the super-blood lunar-eclipse, which last came around in ’82, without even a hint of autumn. I am 8 weeks into The Elephant Machine. Or is in 9? 10? Yeah, we started early. I knew graduate school… Continue reading 8 Lessons from 8 Weeks at The Elephant Machine.
