There will be no poem tonight. My brain is too full, there’s no room to move around. It’s late, I’ve got nothing to say, nothing at the ready. Sorry teacher, the cat ate my homework.

Meanwhile, I’ve been hanging out at an online poetry workshop that is chock full of incredible resources. They have clear rules about which level of forum one should post to and stringently enforce them. They do not suffer fools, and they don’t sugar-coat feedback. If a poem is trite, cliched, and generally weak, the feedback is honest and specific, and many times ruthless. I’ve been lurking in the higher-level forums and see how good some of the work is. And the critiques! They are truly thorough and at a level I’m nowhere near to provide. So I’m feeling a bit intimidated, a little pale, as I look at what I’ve written so far.

This, combined with the fact I have work I took home and am resisting… Nope, nothing tonight.