Christopher Bakken VWRS reflection

I brought a pen and a notebook to Bakken's reading, thinking maybe I would glean things. I wrote down a few short phrases from his writing
("precipice of a smile"
"mundane revelations"
"we only spoke in present tense")
and a couple paraphrased shards of answers he gave while answering questions
("The role of the poet is praise. Notice the things people overlook, shine a light on their value. The second role of the poet is disgrace. Call out injustice and wrongdoings, bear witness."
"The best thing for an artist to do is think of the place you always avoid, and then go there."
"Write down your top five habits for writing, then do the opposite").
I wrote a sentence about the audience, purely descriptive
(perhaps you remember the "amen" woman).
One thing I didn't write down, but remember now, is when someone asked to whom, if anyone, Bakken was referring when he used "you" in his poetry. I think he responded by quoting from the Bible, God speaking of his creations using "you." The implications have been interesting to try to decipher.

I wrote down this list of gleanings here so that I could stare at it for a while and see if anything inspired me. This resulted in a poem meant to praise, use an oxymoron, and break (or do my best to break) at least some of my usual rules. It is about Amen Woman's creator.

and the ghost

I took the path to the lake
where water skippers
dart over the surface
as I once did, stretched tight
and thin, spilling out
most of my paint, trying to save
what I tried to make. 

I sat beneath the canopy 
on a rock, out of the way
where little spiders sew and hang 
their hammocks in the cold 
warmth of the shade. I take
a stick, draw in the dirt; if I 
keep touch, I will not float. 

why I tried to make?
I see you wonder
why you are here
I need you to remind me
now and again that
I am real