In 1966, I was honored to become a sort of mascot to a group of writers I came to call in later years "The Not Quite Dead Yet Poets Society." The seven members of this critiquing social group were all accomplished authors, professors, lecturers and-above all-poets. I was 23 at the time and all of them were nearly double my age or more. I was welcomed into this austere circle by a romantic relationship with its youngest member, Jack. The others embraced me as a project as if it were "take your daughter to work" day. It was a ...
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In 1966, I was honored to become a sort of mascot to a group of writers I came to call in later years "The Not Quite Dead Yet Poets Society." The seven members of this critiquing social group were all accomplished authors, professors, lecturers and-above all-poets. I was 23 at the time and all of them were nearly double my age or more. I was welcomed into this austere circle by a romantic relationship with its youngest member, Jack. The others embraced me as a project as if it were "take your daughter to work" day. It was a mutual admiration society all around. I brought youth, exuberance and the stimulation of an eager mind to the group. They took on the role of mentors and guides. My role was that of Muse. Mature themes and some sexual content.
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