Thursday, April 11, 2013

Day 12: April 11, 2013 6:45am in the Studio

I’m letting the sun streak my face through the blinds. It’s a winter, blue sky day, and I just love having the sun bounce off the river. I’m going to miss having this river to stare at every day.

Eamon left yesterday morning after breakfast, and it made me quite sad. He was an unexpected gift of our trip. Both Todd and I had him sign his books that we bought from the bookstore. We skedaddled in there Monday, just in time to snatch up two copies. When Eamon left this morning, I missed him. He’s got these troublemaker eyes and a great laugh. He’s the kind of man and poet you hope to have the pleasure of knowing for a good long time, someone who you can meet at the pub and exchange stories. Well, perhaps we’ll make it through Poughkeepsie or western Ireland one of these days.

I spent the morning slogging through work study—only 4 more hours to squeeze in. I don’t want to lose the momentum of writing and reading today, but if I get it done, I’ll be free for my (gulp) last day.

Yesterday afternoon and evening I really immersed myself in the history of the Chicago stockyards and the surrounding community. It’s interesting how much you don’t know about your own city and family. Finally, at the end of the day, my research paid off with a decent poem. Eamon suggested that I contemplate making most of my poems prose poems; any new poems that I write are saved as both verse and prose, so that I can make up my mind later.

Yesterday evening was the next slide night, so at 8pm we went down to the dining hall to hear the next 10 people give presentations on their work. Some painters, sculptors, printmakers, mixed-media. Like last week, I enjoyed seeing the variety and getting familiar with the work of people we’ve been talking with at meals.

Tonight are Open Studios, so we can walk around and see everyone’s work in their studios. I’m really looking forward to seeing the variety of colors and styles. The once white rooms coming alive.

Today I have a list of poems I will try to write and a pile of books that I might begin to sift through. It’ll be a busy day. Time to go be a poet.

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