Your
folders were OKAY. Some members of the group did some fairly remarkable
revisions and 2 semesters of growing in one workshop. Some circled the airport
for months and managed to land with all cargo in tact. More than one member of
the group blamed the group for the demoralization to which they undoubtedly
contributed. You were, for better or worse, a weird and dissonant crew. You
resented being reminded that you don’t seem to know much about the glorious
company you wish to join. Every time I got up to look for a poem I thought
might shed some light on our discussions, you broke up into little coffee
clatches [sic] and talked about
anything except poetry. Dave thought he was the co-pilot and never stopped
talking; Marc hardly said a word but nonetheless did a very good revisions of
one of John’s poems; Kathleen was hip and witty and neo-sixties and
condescending; Kim was solemn and neo-classical and condescending; Marianne was
surprised this wasn’t group therapy, was forthright and humble, and did some
fine revisions; John joined the 20th Century with considerable
success; Jackie stopped doing the suburban minuet and might learn to boogie
yet; Dan filled in every pause in Dave’s monologue, never listened to anybody,
and yet somehow (osmosis?) translated his transcripts into po-ems.
I
don’t ever want you all back in the same room, EVER, but I want you all to keep
reading and, if you must, writing. Your final assignment is Theodore Roethke’s
essay, “The Last Class.” Also the complete works of Whitman, Hopkins,
Baudelaire, Hardy, Dickinson, Frost, Williams, Pound, Eliot, Stevens, Moore,
Blake, Donne, Browning, Keats, Lowell, Bishop, Roethke, Berryman, Creeley,
Levertov, Kumin, O’Hara, Ginsberg (you can skip around), Wright, Brooks, Kees,
Crane (H.), Gibran.
Happy
Trails,
[professor’s
dog’s name redacted]
[May
1987]
Now the light dawns in a little corner of my memory and I remember this shot over our bows! Why is it that I don't remember having so many men in the workshop? And were we both condescending, at the same time, or did we take turns? Ha!
ReplyDeleteI thought I was too introverted to be considered hip and witty and neo-sixties, but hey, I'll take it. But I would never deign to condescend.
DeleteOh, and I was worried there was the slightest chance you would be unhappy with me posting this, but it looks like it was OK to do it...? I certainly hope we were sometimes condescending at the same time. Perhaps we mastered the eye roll.
DeleteHoly shit, your life is never bland. I really think you should arrange a class reunion, possibly culminating in a "Murder on the Orient Express"-type revenge (Kim, apologies for the potentially dubious hyphen).
ReplyDeleteI would have used an en dash there, Helen, but that's me.
DeleteThen it definitely classifies as a dubious hyphen.
Delete(Bloody condescending bitch.)
Bwhahahahahaha
DeleteAacck: I meant "qualifies," not "classifies." I should stop putting anything in writing.
DeleteOh yes, there are stories to be told here.
ReplyDeleteIf only I could remember them. I can't even conjure many faces to these names.
DeleteI thought this was your letter to them until your name showed up and I thought surely this was fiction but no. So perfect.
ReplyDeleteOh my god this is amazing.
ReplyDeleteIt was a truly bad-energy workshop with very little talent. As insulting as some of this is, he isn't exactly wrong. There was one real poet in our group. I love that crazy, solemn, neo-classical, condescending gal. (Condescending? Really?)
ReplyDelete