The Tip of My Tongue

Poetry class is getting easier. There’s more laughing, even when necrophilia enters the scene (thanks Neil.) Don’t you wish you were there? Seriously, though, there are patterns emerging. I think that I might be starting to hear the rhythms that at times have seemed so elusive. Who knows? All I know is I feel better, as though I might not be Helen Keller navigating this world. I keep seeing Gluck climbing down from the tree and realizing the things I want to say are on the tip of my tongue, which of course is a fairly dangerous place to be. I knew this semester would get interesting. I'll try and post another of David's word grids tomorrow, if you'd like to join the poetry fun. I'd do it now, but it's past my bedtime.