long grain

Two months. Goddamn.

So there's today. My body's weak. The snow's pounding melted drops against my windowsill. I finished classes yesterday and a book of poems by Aimee Nezhukumatathil a couple hours ago.

I have a turkey sandwich, triscuits and hummus.

Yesterday, classmate K told us on behalf of his lack-of-belief that, "we don't need to read poetry to write successful poetry."

I combated his comment by telling him well, you'd might as well believe in nihilism, read more Poe, ignore the word Contemporary written on the board and take the pre-requisite for this course, though I knew such a comment would aggravate him after he'd already explained to the other four of us in class that his favorite band, Slipknot had "really poetic lyrics."

Teaching will be the perfect profession for me.