Ours poetica

NOT MINE ITS ZEESKEIT ON ao3

Tommy was handed a small flyer in printed in black and white, with the words "POETRY NIGHT - OPEN MIC" splayed across the front in bubbled font. He fumbled with his binder as he took it, eyes wide as he said, "are you sure? I mean, I love poetry and all, but I don't think-I'm not sure-what if I can't write poetry?"

Mr. Sam's dark eyes softened, and he reached out to place a hand on Tommy's shoulder, squeezing it gently. "Everyone has to start somewhere; every poet, from me to Rudy Francisco, started off without knowing a clue about what we were doing. Tommy, it's not about if you can or cannot write poetry, it's about if you want to."

or:
The performance poetry AU in which Tommy joins a slam team and finds a home in the arts.

NOT MINE ITS MY ZEESKEIT ON ao3