This long-poem class turned out to be one of the most satisfying I have ever taught. Though it was complicated to both invent and execute, it brought everyone involved into startling new relationship with their material. The Whitman-based discussions and prompts built up the stamina of participants who had never undertaken such a big poem before while also encouraging the mess and ambiguity that is so necessary at the start of a long-poem adventure. And then we suddenly broke the Whitman container, which pushed us into entirely new conversations with our material.

I would love to offer this class again, so if any of you are interested, let me know and we'll figure out dates.

***

It is pleasant to wake up on a Monday morning with two big drafts of a curious big poem waiting for me. It is pleasant to find a bright bed of coals in the wood stove and to pad comfortably through a warm house when the outside temperature is 31 degrees and I have no furnace. It is pleasant to look forward to a walk in the cold morning air.

Tomorrow I'll head north for another Monson session, but today will mostly be mine. So I might rake leaves. I might fidget with my poem. I might finish reading some poetry collections. I might do some housework. At some point this week another big editing job will show up on my desk and I'll be back to hourly labor. But that long-poem class was hard work and I'm not sorry to have this brief chance to coast.