. . . thesis reading tonight. Seven graduating students gave readings from their theses, and it was a display of some serious talent. I was duly impressed all around. It actually got me to think about language (an abundance of poets read), and excited for my own future projects. The other really stunning thing was how much there was a shared admiration for these students from the faculty. I have seen a lot of introductions over the years to writers, and nothing topped the glowing reviews of tonight.
It also gives me a glimpse at what I need to strive for in my own writing. I have tentatively been thinking about my own thesis, and what sort of poetry I want to write. I am lucky in that I already have a tone...there is usually little doubt but that my poems are written by me. But subject, holding that tone throughout an entire manuscript...it is a lot to ask for, and I am not entirely sure that I have the scope of such a project yet.
I am going to be scratching my fiction itch this summer though. The fiction presents no problem in that way. I can think in terms of the novel with a vague idea of balance and interconnections, but the poetry has yet to present itself that way to me. It is a more cantankerous relationship. Tempestuous.
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