A famous poet A master Of thirty (or more) years Of teaching poetry (taught by Ginsberg I've been told) Left a voicemail...a generous offer...to read my poetry To give me instruction At a downtown coffee shop For fifty dollars an hour
Fifty dollars an hour? Shouldn't he have an office? Well, it's as close to a 1920s parisian dive around Boulder as one could find I used to hang out there And write before work
Eh Perhaps it's not as weird as I think it is Perhaps I can ascertain a love for language that couldn't be achieved outside of reading my Blake, Whitman, Hemingway, Lawrence, Dickerson...
He will read my poetry And guide me towards accessibility, honesty, vulnerability, courage I will be relatable (for once) With beautiful imagery That will open universes
I am suppose to text him back
Is this what I want?
What I want...thats something folks closest to me dare not ask
What has what I want have to do with anything in my life?
What I want, what I want, what I want
I want my voice to come forth effortlessly from my adventurous life, my song to echo expansive landscapes and treks, to learn intimate knowledge of plants and rocks, and laugh with the beautiful people that inhabit such places
I know tonight Nothing matters Until I set an opportunistic sail to this change in the wind
I have already ventured deep into this life, I've not gone gently into the night, so why start now?
The time to shove off is soon
Like Whitman said... "AFOOT and light-hearted, I take to the open road... The long brown path before me, leading wherever I choose"