1. Wednesday, July 10, 2019

    im most grateful for the ideas 

    a long time ago i was in a poetry writing class at my university

    it was a trick class because the credits did not count for any requirement in letters & science

    even though it was a letters & science class.

    you took it because you wanted to

    and that was all.

    the trick though, is it was taught by the most popular writing teacher in

    the mysterious college of creative studies

    a place where if you could somehow get in, it would bless you with

    the unimaginable gift

    of no grades, no tests, no finals.

    but none of us who took this class knew that.

    at least i sure didnt.

    none of us knew that this teacher was the key to that incredible world.

    incredible, in part, because everyone in that college was super talented

    in art or music or math or words.

    one of the things this teacher did was she required each student to meet with her privately

    twice that quarter, after class, for about an hour.

    weird, but ok, whatever.

    upon my first visit she asked how i liked class, and i said i liked it.

    we went over some of the poems id written and after that i said

    hey i have a 13 page epic love poem id like to ask you about because im having

    a hard time finishing it.

    and i gave it to her and we read it and the next time that we had a meeting

    she was asking me if i would be interested in transferring from letters and science

    to go to the college of creative studies.

    little did i know it was a trick question.

    because it tricked me into believing i could do it.

    which i did.

    one of the things i asked her that pivotal afternoon was something that i remember even now,

    centuries later

    i said, robyn, obviously you know a few things about creativity,

    as that is the college you teach at, and also attended,

    i am really afraid that the ideas will stop one day.

    will they?

    and she said:

    nope.

    and she aint never lied