The Student
by: Billy Collins
She made asterisks
next to passages she liked,
little stars that kept shining
after she closed the book.
Today was the last day of school for my student son. Summer vacation has officially begun, so he won't be annotating any books for the next three or so months.
Me? I worked on my poetry manuscript again, among all my other tasks. Today, I organized poems, created sections, and proofread. It was a little anxiety-inducing to say the least. (Reminder: I have been living with this book for over 20 years. That's almost as long as my daughter has been alive and five years longer than my son has been on this planet.) The floor of my office was a minefield of poetry for a good portion of the afternoon.
However, I'm happy with the results. Maybe "happy" is too strong a word. It's more like I'm satisfied with my work. It holds together. Makes sense. Feels done. However, I have been at this point before and then worked another half a decade on various poems. (One poem in particular took me ten years to complete.)
Saint Marty is cautiously optimistic, which is not an emotion he experiences often.
Poetry Gardening
by: Martin Achatz
Poems spread across the floor,
sprouts and dandelions
waiting for me to start
weeding.
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