EWR: The yin and the yang of it

EWR:

The poet and the professor both live within, in an uneasy tolerance of each other which occasionally erupts into tension and consternation. 

The professor is astute but skeptical. The poet is inspired, but naïve. 

The professor is smart, inquisitive and discriminating,  and writes in prose. The poet is imaginative, discursive, and idealistic, and writes in lyrics.

The professor worries about money, the poet worries about love.

The professor obsesses, the poet broods.

The professor is early, the poet is late.

The professor wants to nail things down, the poet wants to open things up.

The professor says test and verify. The poet says throw caution to the wind.

The professor shops at Vons, the poet shops at Lazy Acres. 

The professor is currently reading Existential Physics. The poet is hearing Anam Cara

The professor is doing his tax returns. The poet is listening to George Winston.

The professor thinks moving to Ireland is foolish and irresponsible. The poet think staying in San Diego is boring and depressing.

I can always tell when the professor is in town because I am annoyed by things like baby talk and woo woo.

I can tell when the poet is in town because my daydreams are in full swing and I feel light and positive.

I have to get them to talk to each other. They often seem world’s apart. Each wants the others to be contained and to submit. Both are demanding their due. I place myself in peril when I ignore either voice. I need them both.

To be continued…

JW:

The professor said get back to work; the poet said play with this.

The professor makes me feel safe; the poet takes me on adventures.

The professor opens the door to understanding; the poet explores clouds.

The professor condenses info into useable bits; the poet links adjectives into mystical wanderings.

The professor draws maps; the poet follows blue highways to anywhere.

The professor grounds decisions in facts; the poet waffles about in shadowy possibilities.

The professor turns on the lights; the poet roots around in the cellar.

The professor fills shelves with books; the poet colors outside the lines.

The professor shares knowledge; the poet bewilders the borders.

I bet we could continue continuing ...