Friday, January 30, 2009
A spirited debate with a colleague sent me to my overstuffed bookshelves in search of the publications from my college years. Yes, it's been 15 years and I still have the lit mags from my undergrad days. Within these journals are sterling samples of the kind of poetry I was writing then. (My colleague and I were discussing one of our current student's work.) It was a strange trip to flip through and see the names and writing of people I haven't spoken to in so long. As soon as I saw their names, faces and voices and memories flooded in. In some cases I didn't even have to re-read the poems to remember the gist of them.
Then, I found my own poems. Two of them were centered and most of them contained lines that made me shake my head and sigh. However, every now and then, I would read a line that resonated with what I'm writing today. There was some evidence then of the writer I've become. That fascinates me...especially b/c I stopped writing all together for about 3-4 years before I went back to grad school. Somehow, some kernel of that beginning voice survived, and that makes me very happy.