printers row

Do something that scares you a little, they say. Get outside your comfort zone.

I met a man who read only Westerns whose father retired from ranching and never took him camping. I wrote a poem for a woman who grew up by The Hundred Acres Wood, a young penny finder, a couple who fell in love at first sight, and a woman with a secret I will never share.

At Chicago's Printers Row, I wrote poems for people I met on the street. In the moment. No prep. Three minutes. It might be genius. It might not. (If you know a writer, you know how terrifying this is.) The last time I wrote 18 poems in 4 hours. Today my companion and I wrote more than 40 poems.

Tell me a story. I'll write you a poem.

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