First day of class tomorrow, a bit of butterflies now, as I always have.
Want to remember my classes go best when I don’t plan too much. Have something in mind about tearing pages and discerning poems in the strips we’ve made — as prep for the fragments we have of Sappho, many recovered from the mummies her poems were recycled to bear on in the afterworld.
Have a couple of books on hand of W.C. Williams, already spine-split and spilling their pages. They should make good material.
Am struck by — a feeling the books are sacrosanct! shouldn’t be torn with! Interesting.
the art of compost 