A Master of Fine Arts at 69

How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnish’d, not to shine in use!
As tho’ to breathe were life! Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains: but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things …

50 years ago, at the end of my teen years, I started hitch hiking around the US. Over the next few years, in trips ranging from 3 days to 3 weeks, I traveled close to 45,000 miles, visiting or passing through over 40 states.

I was usually alone and often broke, subsisting on the generosity of strangers. I learned to deal with all kinds of discomfort, to do without a lot of things, to adjust to unexpected changes, to size up new places and situations, and to get along with nearly anyone.

I think that was one of the most important formative experiences of my adulthood.

More popular — and more diverse — than ever

I recently took another writer here to task for attacking modern poetry and everyone who writes it. Her disparagement was nothing to be taken seriously, just opinionated ignorance. But later, it occurred to me, her complaints about contemporary poetry sounded awfully familiar. In fact, they were the same tired old…

But she doesn’t know jack about poetry

I’ve been a fan of Tessa Schlesinger for most of the time I’ve been on Medium, just over a year now. Everyone should read her essays. Tessa calls herself a global citizen, author, thinker, and polymath. …

Edward Robson, PhD, MFA

Retired psychologist, wordsmith, teacher, learner. Buy me coffee: ko-fi.com/edrobson. ecrobson@gmail.com

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