By Franz Wright — March 18, 1953 – May 14, 2015
Now I’m not the brightest
knife in the drawer, but
I know a couple things
about this life: poverty
discipline and mystery
The world is not illusory, we are
From crimson thread to toe tag
If you are not disturbed
there is something seriously wrong with you, I’m sorry
And I know who I am
I’ll be a voice
coming from nowhere,
be glad for me.
Franz Wright was a great poet who died this past Spring. He knew things. He wrote them down. And we know who we are, if we’re gifted and work at it. What we are is a voice coming from nowhere, inside.
Time to begin our workshop again and work on our voice.
Here is the way it works: you bring new work each week and we read it and critique it. I will give you assignments, based on what you’re writing. You write more during the week, come back, we read and give each other honest, kind feedback.
And you write.
TIME: We meet on Thursday nights from 7 to 10 beginning January 21st It will last 8 weeks and may continue on. And at the conclusion of the workshop, we will plan a reading.
Please let me know if you’d like to join the workshop asap–since it is limited to 9 participants, 10 including me. I have one spot left. (I limit the participants so that each person will get the attention they deserve).
Email for inquires: cost and address. Email: adeleslaughter at mac dot com.
I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it. Therefore I will trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.
– Thomas Merton, “Thoughts in Solitude”
© Abbey of Gethsemani