Waiting for a student who never did show up, I did some of my blog reading. I'm so far behind. I read 20 or 30 poems by my favorite college professor, who must be writing and posting one each day of the year. A couple connected in ways I couldn't yet explain, so they're marked for another reading, for another day. Something about reading poetry makes me want to write, especially when I feel connected to it, as I do with my former prof's writing.
I went back and read two poems that I wrote in early 2008. I don't think I've written any since. They were pretty good. What happens to all these things we write and tuck away? Will anyone ever know them? Will anyone ever laugh at the poem about my bad haircut? It was so much better in version 2. Yet, I'm afraid to put them online; if people can read them, they can take them. And, they're mine.
And yet, what has been someone else's can mean so much to me. This is why music is so important to me, after all.
Maybe I'll post those poems after all.