poetry

because a door opens at night

I think yesterday was sort of an existential crisis.

I’m definitely feeling better. The time alone, yesterday aside, has been beneficial – therapeutic, in a way. I couldn’t ask for a prettier place to be, and the writing has been going surprisingly well. The Colony provided a bike, so I’ve been walking or riding around town, and I feel alive again. The first few days of workshop awkwardness are over, and we seem to have fallen into a comfortable groove of commentary.

I was sort of afraid to meet Dean – there’s always the fear that your heroes will disappoint you, but Dean is everything I hoped he would be: funny, smart, quirky, and humble. He has the ability to zero in on the crux of a poem really quickly, and his critiques are sharp but gentle.

A quick photo tour of what I’ve seen so far (more to come):

a dinghy
just outside the Mailer House
down to the beach
look, Donna, I went on the beach!
outside a house

Another workshop tomorrow, and hopefully more picture taking…

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