Brian Turner

in a sense, if we end up, um, mimicking, um, the music that's handed down to us, then it's good practice.

You know?

Um, but still working towards our own poems.

And at some point, hopefully, like, I, I don't, I feel this is my poem, Hear Bullet.

But I can see where it comes from.

Yeah.

I can, well, I can't see, I can hear where it comes from.

And, and that's very much when you said song and the wheels inside, that kind of, these gears and levers and our bodies are the instrument of the music.

So we carry the music inside and if we carry wonderful pieces from other people in time, I think we can find ways that they can become rooted in our own lives.

And when we need to lean on that music, hopefully the best outcome might be that the music will be transmuted through us and find its own way into a space that we need for ourselves and maybe someone else will be able to share.

You know what I mean?

It's part of the

that's a really convoluted sentence but I'm just saying there's an inheritance we have hopefully we can take it and take it another step further and then share it with those beyond us and they'll do the work they need to do I studied Louis Glick's poetry when I was an undergraduate and

And it's hard because we have, you know, we've been, we carry, we are the vehicle of the music, we're the instrument our entire lives.

So, you know, from the first sort of, first time we hear language and start to produce it ourselves up until now, whatever that might be for us, the cab driver talking, yelling at the car on the street,

the English professor quote in Shakespeare, all of them mash together in each of us in their own ways.

And so we have to, where is our voice in that?

And so it could be a struggle to figure out what have I written?

I think I've created one word myself.

I've made it from one word.