“Her brother was dying in another city She did not have a husband or children, but she had a job that held her in the city where she lived. Until her brother went home to die, her job was work she gave her time to. But now it was taking time from her. She could feel it. She read poems that students wrote; she read poems in books and in the evenings she lived with them, thought of what she would say about them next day in the classroom. She knew that she could not plan everything she would say; s...he could only plan how she would begin. It was a matter of letting go in front of the students, and waiting for the light to come. The light would come with images and words she must not hold before class. Her holding them could take away the life they drew from revelation, turn them into dead objects she possessed and carried with her to show the students. She knew that teaching a poem was like writing a poem: she could only begin, and reach, and wait. If she tried to impose a design to save herself from failure, there would be no revelation on the page, or with her students.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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