I spent much of yesterday back in the teaching saddle, not running a class but inventing one: the first Poetry Kitchen offering of the 2024-25 season. Held on an October Saturday on zoom, it will be an all-day generative-writing class based around some of Keats's ideas about poetry--lots of conversation about the work of a variety of poets, lots of writing time. If you're interested, you should register pronto because, believe it or not, it's already more than half full. That might be because it only costs $75; I am trying to keep these things affordable.

I'll slowly be posting more class offerings as I work out my school-year schedule. It's a challenge to balance my weekday travel to Monson with these weekend-based classes, my bottomless stack of freelance editorial projects, family obligations, and my sanity and exhaustion. I'm thrilled that the zoom classes have become so popular, but I overbooked myself ridiculously last year, and I've got to figure out how to do better.

This morning I'll be meeting with the Monson Arts director about scheduling next year's Conference on Poetry and Learning. It seems that the staff was thrilled with our presence, which makes me so happy, and the participant evaluations I've received have also been enthusiastic. After years of instability and anxiety, we've finally found our footing again. It is a great relief.

As is the weather. Finally the heat has broken. Though we could use a good steady rain, coolness is better than scorch, and the garden is grateful for what it can get. Today I'll do some watering, do some weeding, tie up the burgeoning tomatoes, harvest sage for drying. And I hope I'll get back to poems as well. At last night's salon, three more promising blurts erupted in my notebook. Clearly I'm in the zone and I need to stay there if I can.