Notes from a master class

Two poems written in response to a “master class” I took as part of the Tell it Slant poetry festival:

The instructor said (and because it sounded like a question independent and within their larger statement I lost the rest of what they said)

“How does the poet get off…


Within my own thoughts suddenly and again

I quipped, sounds sexual

And self corrected


It is sensuous.

Words do breath

Meaning like gasps

And pull the two – who may never have met


As understanding dawns within

Fertile, and grows

No wonder

People are afraid

To read poetry

The instructor called Emily an odd interrupter

forgetting, I suppose

that we are reading her PRIVATE thoughts

and she is not, as described

as that crazy woman who

walks up to you in the market to ask

Are you a nobody?

I wish I could meet her

some place other than

the unconsented edits of her words

privately written

for nobody.

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