New Draft, week 13

Belief

Sniffing like padres for a sin,

I caught your hate in the air.

Citation-armed and tongue taut,

you were so prepared.

A locomotive transplant,

I ducked passages of mayhem,

reading from your book of god.

Your conviction narrowed your eyes,

seeking to know a newfound stranger,

as I challenged and sought to know

you, too.

A miscreant from down under,

I heard the canopies of forever come down,

the wrath of the Old Testament.

You asked,

“Who art thou that crept from a four leaf clover

in the dawn of sibilance?

The grace of the almighty saves you

and you hold a cacophony over holy water?

I shalt not know the nonbeliever

that ushers a whinny

afore stomping the ashes of her

dead brethren. Don’t you know you’ll go to hell?”

Poem Draft, Week 12

Seeking Protection

Only eleven and already we build armored torsos

to prevent viruses disguised as handshakes.

We try all the keys,

yet they are foreign like orbits.

Where is your hand sanitizer?

Yearning for acceptance,

our nerves tickle inside pockets,

cell phone vibrates even though

it’s not there.

While mothers cook outstanding pasta dishes

and fathers mullets tarry their culture,

we nip at cacti for nourishment.

We are Supermen, however,

if only in magazines.

Saving memories only

of our parental victories.

They will always run circles around us.

Our parents were softer than theirs

and we're softer than our parents.

Questions bellow by us-

What do you want to be?

Do you have what it takes?

Inferior as they are, these inquiries are liquid

and we are bone dry for other geniuses

to tell us what to do.

We attack altars, sifting clues,

locating origins of our hostility, not accepting

answers shot upon us like numb lasers.

Ambiguity scoffs at the pews like squid

inking their terrain.

Insignias reign, the pious viruses

cling to our doubts and impulses,

thicken tongues, shrink minds,

scare hearts.

Draft 2, week11

Mike Tyson and the Boy

Gap in teeth like brains

Before input.

Output: blood and salt,

Stitches and bruises.

Input: Bashing skulls and scuttle thrashings,

engaged, butted, skin rupture

and tearing from beady eyes and

vanquished heart, ripe for love

like a lobe for a pearl.

Who wouldn't scream with an eagle's urgency?

Beak vice-gripping, carnivorous, thirsty.

Reunited? Unrequited.

The piece lies gnarled and hard

as a sports novelty

in a trophy case

in Montgomery Inn

in Cincinnnati, Ohio.

Strangely humorous among so many gloves, ball, bats, jerseys,

never to mesh with said head again.

Not far from this showcase was a budding swimmer

fluttering up, down, up, down, a butterfly

with chlorinated eyes,

then BAM! Like Lloyd Christmas on vacation

from ever looking the same.

One, two, three counts and it's out.

A shard of loose tooth like a candy chunk,

instructor surveying,

goggles unflinching.

How did he find it?

Bobbing for apples

in a sea of chemical imbalances.

Flippers united,

in an unflappable urgency

to reunite halves of a biter in a mouth

so wanting.

Doctor jaws suggests a calcium cradle

while the boy waits to see

how many years it will take

to live his smile down.

An anticipated appointment replenishes

his shiny whites like glaciers newly bonded.

Draft 1, week 10

Stuck on Candyball Island

There's a tenderness in every stump,
an omnipotence of rainforest proportions,
a sweetness on the tongue of a thousand heaving
breasts.

The vaporous granite rolls like high-tide.
it wants to let you in but
Rejects All Penetration.

Rushing with fortitude,
a narcoleptic precariousness
shaves away all bright matter.
No orange, no rabbit-fucking red.

Calisthenics, week 9

From last week's "Pass the books" exercise:

Earth of Woman

One night she burnt her leg on the exhaust
of a mountain
of impatience.

Today the scab funnels coolness into our cheeks,
shifting like thoughts
that can't find a way
to be said.

Things crumbled. Naturally.

But what if the soft eyes opened?
If they, too, lived in a wood
where she ruled
violent and angry.

"Pick that shit up," she might say.
"Go on, Crackhead."
She might forget her mother tongue
quickly,
like the sweat of Vietnam,
constant as hunger,
while we mate improbably as you do.

"I eat, I shit, just like you," she might say.
"The tomatoes will smell like rat if you don't eat them soon."

I never fail to be amazed by her earthiness
though I am truly a godfather to the giant
red bushes which will descend in a thundering
halo of darkness and purification.

God says remember, god says don't give up,
God says
give up.

Imitation Post, week 9

Ilya Kaminsky's "Paul Celan"
He writes towards your mouth
with his fingers.

In the lamplight he sees mud, wind bitten trees,
he sees grass still surviving this hour, page

stern as a burnt field:
Light was. Salvation

he whispers. The words leave the taste of soil
on his lips.

Darren Delfosse's "Morning Buds"

She paints down your nose
with her breasts.

In the morning fog she envisions earth's crust,
fried eggs, she smiles at honeydews floating in seascapes, bed

hard as a stern lecture:
Sex was. Seduction

she breathes. The language moistens the lipstick,
pouty and sublime.

Sign Inventory, week 9

for "Mock Orange" by Louise Glück

•   The piece ends with two questions in the final stanza.
• The third stanza is enclosed by dashes and is the only stanza that does not contain a complete sentence.
• There is a sexual “union” in the third stanza and a “fusion” of “question” and “answer” in stanza four.
• No one is named in the text. The only characters are “I,” “you,” and “the man.”
• “Hate” is repeated three times in the beginning of stanza two.
• The first line seems to be insisting on the cause of trouble: “It is not the moon, I tell you.”
• The first stanza repeats “It is” and the last stanza repeats “How can I.”
• “The scent of mock orange” is the only smell in the work and also contains its title.
• The sound “mounts” and divides. This parallels the “paralyzing body” and the “cry that escapes.”
• The piece is largely personal and local, but ends with “world.”

Free write, week 9

Put it on ice and have another shrimp on the barbie says the gap-toothed youngster. Always yapping,
saying something that someone else just said.
Speak easy. No. Just speak
Stupid.
I'm tired I'm tried I'm tired I'm-

No we can't do it.
I don't learn that way.
I need my crutch my band-aid my mother.
I'm softer than my dad and he's softer than his.

How did we get to be so dumb?
When did we give up?
Why are we allowed to?

Hold on--we must take the necessary precautions to condition ourselves to be suitably able to address any such situation that may arise as such per district mandatory orders on a strict delivery for immediate action upon command or punitive actions can and will be taken if compliance is not provided with a smile.

It's too hard.
I don't get it.
Get what?
All of it.
What part?
All parts.
Really?
Yes.
How can I help you?
This is stupid.

Pedagogy Forum, week 9

In response to Dr. Davidson's question about what type of poet we are, compact or long-winded, I have analyzed my tendencies. I find that I usually write shorter poems in my initial drafts. However, as I edit my work, I tend to write a bit more. It seems that when I take a second look, there's more that I need to explore. My goal is to try and write a few longer pieces on my first try. I find that I tend to cut myself off if something doesn't sound quite right, and feel that this constriction may be limiting my creative faculties. Therefore, in my free write this week I'm going to let the faucet flow...

Response to C. Yarbrough's Pedagogy forum week 9, week 9

I agree 100% that not all students are college material. We need to adopt a European model for schooling. Or at least a program that takes lessons from the ever-increasing number of countries that are doing a better job than us. Why isn't this happening? Why isn't it obvious? Most of the countries that have higher test scores offer a vocational path for those students who are not "college material." If we instituted a consistent, national vocational program, we would have for more students graduating with an education that really matters to them. We would also increase our skilled labor work force, which is on the decline. Furthermore, many of these students would be making more money than if they went to a four-year college and would boost the economy with the added revenue. I struggle to find a downside here.

Junkyard quote, week 9

"What are panhandlers gonna do when we go to a paperless money system?" -Chris Yarbrough

Junkyard quotes 1-3, week 9

"I had my tooth knocked out by a dildo-bazooka." -Johnny Knoxville on Late Night


"Always forgive your enemies - nothing annoys them so much." -Oscar Wilde

"Everywhere is within walking distance if you have the time." -Steven Wright

Free write, week 8

Here is my experimentation with exercise 4: "Lexical accretion (or the piling up of similar words)" in Writing Poetry, p. 208. I borrowed the title of Mike Doughty's song "Busting Up a Starbucks."

Busting up a Starbucks with a white-frothed shovel
I up-end an Espresso-shotted double.
Busting up a Starbucks into a million tiny little
pieces, coffee grinds spilling, spackiling wall like
feces. Busting up a Starbucks, all the Mexican
Java Joe. Entrails of bitter sugar-seeking begonias
as heat-seeking missiles splash out aromas.
Busting up a Starbucks with cash in clip. Tall, grande,
ala mode, searing hard-cracked hands with sweet finger jars of
tips.

Sign Inventory Post, week 8

In reference to Robert Creeley's "I Know a Man," Contemporary American Poetry, p. 218

• The word "said" is abbreviated "sd" once in each stanza, except the third. It is also the only word abbreviated in the work, besides "yr" for "your."
• "I" is repeated three times in stanza 1 and nowhere else in the piece. "I" is also used in reference to the dominance of conversation in stanza 1: "because I am/always talking,"
• "John" is the only name referenced in the poem. "John" is also "not his [John's] name."
• "John" and "I" are the only capitalizations besides the first letter of the first word. The word "christ" is not capitalized.
• The work moves from points of view: from "I' in stanza 1, to "his" in stanza 2, to "we" in stanza 3, to "he" and "yr" in stanza 4. Oddly,the piece ends with the only 2nd-person perspective throughout. It is the only time the other passenger speaks.
• The whole piece is one, run-on sentence.
• The Lord's name is used twice, once in each of the last two stanzas, in reference to a "big car" and his "sake." Both are used in vain, neither is capitalized, and both are in answer to to a question of "darkness" that "surrounds."
• The characters in the work are entirely anonymous aside from Christ, who is only referred to in abstraction.
• The word "surrounds" is enjambed at the syllable break and is the only hyphenated word.
• The solution to the problem of the "darkness" is purchasing a "goddamn big car." Similarly, "drive" is the offered solution to the first speaker's dilemma.

Improvisation, week 8

"Drops in the Bucket" by Kay Ryan, Contemporary American Poetry, p. 533:

At first
each drop
makes its
own pock
against the tin.
In time
there is a
thin lacquer
which is
layered and
relayered
till there's
a quantity
of water
with its
own skin
and sense
of purpose,
shocked at
each new violation
of its surface.

"Insult" by Darren Delfosse

In the beginning
each harsh
word creates
a small
indentation.
After a while
there is pooled
medley of
verbal lacerations,
like paper clip cuts
in a desk,
till there's a rash
formation layered
upon the skin
with a wickedness
all its own.
And it seeps,
and seeps,
until the skin
forgets who it was
and becomes
its own mutated
insult.

Calisthenics, week 8

Here's the product of playing with the idea of my death, courtesy of "Imagining the unimaginable," ex. 2, p. 203, Writing Poetry:

It will be simple.
In an armchair in a living room.
People will gasp.
Maybe even scream.
But they all will have seen it coming.

There's an old clock ticking and the television is on.
Somebody's in the kitchen
cooking. Probably the wife,
maybe my sister,
amidst conversation on politicians and how much
they suck.

I will maintain a wry smile and bear a button-up collared shirt,
non-distinct in color, probably plaid.
A Christmas tree will adorn the room,
lights flashing--on, off, on, off...

And a baby will laugh at a colorful toy,
while batting at it
in her playpen.

Junkyard quote 4, week 8

"Arentisnobie & Ritch" -from a t-shirt

Response to week 8: Rachel D. Jones' Pedagogy Forum, week 8

I'm glad to see that colleagues are having success at with poetry activities in the classroom. It's interesting how sometimes the ideas you develop on-the-fly become the most engaging for students. The art of poetry lends itself to creativity and it only makes sense that when you are creative in developing an activity, the students can sense it. A lack of thinking through every aspect of an activity causes the teacher to know less about what to expect, and often what happens is a pleasant surprise. I believe that the open-ended nature of your questions made the activity more fun. I think students naturally like poetry; it's when we bog it down with too many terms and technicalities, that we end up with disenchanted students.

Pedagogy Forum, week 8

After attending the Billy Collins reading, I was struck with his originality, and fresh, witty commentary. His ability to read with intention was also impressive. His voice was generally flat, but with the slightest inflection, he made his musings more interesting. It was clear that he's been doing readings for a while.

I was also struck by the various reactions to his performance. Most students were impressed, while some considered him too "safe." While it may be true that Collins doesn't tackle very controversial topics, he is undoubtedly a rare talent. And while popularity doesn't necessarily equal quality (see Justin Bieber or Katy Perry), Collins satisfies the harshest critics and poetic ignoramuses alike. He is great for the art because he exemplifies how influential it can be. Even if budding poets realize that they most likely can't make a living writing poetry, the potential for touching others is definitely inspiring.

Junkyard quotes 1-3, week 8

“Made in China but made by Korean people.” -from a sign in a picture I saw on the web

"A poem is a naked person... Some people say that I am a poet." -Bob Dylan


"Courage is a kind of salvation." -Plato

Pedagogy forum, week 7

I tried the calisthenics exercise I borrowed from Writing Poetry on “writing the absurd” on my class this past week. It was engaging because 6,7,8^th graders can especially relate to the comedy in making outlandish connections. I received many depictions of people eating strange things, inanimate objects doing strange things, and animals going crazy. Younger people are ideal for fostering ideas. Using them as a springboard, I came up with my own animal piece.

Not only were my students excited about participating in this strange writing exercise, it carried into the next lesson. I found that by referencing the fun we had being strange, I got more interest in the structure of grammatical teaching.

Free write, week 7

At the Parks

Sniffing like Padres

a locomotive transplant

ducks undercover in streets of mayhem.

Whoever was a miscreant down under

saw the canopies of forever come down.

Who art thou that crept from a four leaf clover

when the dawn of sibilance

holds a cacophony over water?

I shalt not know the Clydesdale

that ushers a whinny

afore stomping the ashes of her

mangled brethren.

Who caught it before its last utter?

Better left unsaid

Said somebody blowing glass profusely.

The song sharpens the gloss of my lipstick

when random thoughts calculate

the misfortunes

of a tirade of little butterfingers.

Calisthenics, week 7

Here is a shot at exercise 8 “Suspensions and reverberations” from Writing Poetry, p. 215.

Caught

Stretched like putty, putty outstretched

snaps back to what you did you said you wouldn’t do

It’s like something you catched.

Again and again, a gain has yet been made

It’s what you said you said you wouldn’t do that’s what you said.

Out with a buddy, stretched like silly putty

Now you wind up hungover and sludged in your bed.

Sign Inventory, week 7

"The Asians Dying," W.S. Merwin, Contemporary American Poetry, p. 259

• There is no punctuation in the work.
• Negative language is consistent throughout. Examples: "destroyed," "darkness," "Nothing," "Nor," "dead," "pointless," "disappear," "pain," "Death," "no."
• "Forever" and "Nothing" are juxtaposed as the only word in line 3 and the first word of line 4.
• "The possessors" are specifically addressed in the first and last stanzas and are described as being followed by ash "Forever" and being "everywhere."
• "Death" is the only capitalized word within a line.
• "Forever" and "Remains" are the only two one-word lines.
• Nature scenes are created in each stanza and related to death in some way: Stanza 1- forests destroyed; stanza 2- rain in the eyes of "the dead;" stanza 3- "nights disappear;" stanza 4- "possessors[...]under Death" are like "smoke," "thin flames."
• The last words of the final two lines are "past" and "future," each of which ends in a kind of nothingness.
• There are two failed attempts at making sound: 1. Rain- "pointless sound;" 2. "paper bells/ Calling to nothing living."
• Oxymorons of light and darkness are repeated throughout: "ghosts [...] make a new twilight," "Death their star," "thin flames with no light." 

Imitation Post, week 7

"Because You Asked About the Line Between Prose and Poetry," Howard Nemerov, Contemporary American Poetry, p. 122

Sparrows were feeding in a freezing drizzle
That while you watched turned into pieces of snow
Riding a gradient invisible
From silver aslant to random, white, and slow.

There came a moment you couldn't tell.
And then they clearly flew instead of fell.

"Transfiguration," Darren Delfosse

Droplets were disseminating in a frenzied sheet
That while you yearned turned into nails of divinity
Trending a barely perceptible nuance
From pure aqua to nine, inched, and menacing.

There was a time when you really couldn't see
How they froze from something pure to something ugly.

Response to JPhillips wk 7, Pedagogy Forum, week 7

Generally speaking, I agree that writing should be fun and that if you drone on, you're only hurting yourself. I was a a little confused, however, when you said that you "make the mistake" of grading the "quality" and "flavor of the language." Why is that a mistake? It seems that you value the quality over anything else. It's hard to grade merely on "flavor," however. Many students may have a flair for interesting language, but are lacking when it comes to conventions or organization. In fact, this seems more common with more creative writers. Oftentimes, creativity gets in the way of convention, just as rules get in the way of ingenuity. I am still learning how to enjoy the art of ALL writing. You reminded me just how easy it is to forget.

Junkyard quotes (1-4), week 7

"Our Sundays are better than Dairy Queen's!" -Methodist church sign in Athens, GA.
"You shut your mouth when you're talking to me!" -friend quoting a movie (I think).
"I got the truck out, but it was a butt-puckering ride." -friend telling story about driving truck down slope not intended for trucks without 4-wheel drive.
"I don't believe in God."/"It doesn't matter. He believes in you." -Edmond/Priest exchange in The Count of Monte Cristo.

Calisthenics, week 6

This is the result from the "Engaging the Absurd" exercise 9 from pages 104-5 in Writing Poetry:

Droppings

A porcupine postures himself in the limelight
of a casinoed street. Neon razors coagulate
as he struts his stuff. The spindles of his shell
bristle as he admires his rolex,
sprinkles of cauliflower tickle the humid air.

A mosquito takes in the scene
like a drag of blood breath,
siphoning mother's nature from a piercing
of the Nissan's nipple. Indigent extract
slightens a smile.

A cow catches her breath
after punting a wounded starfish.
All systems go. Wheezing
through the solar plexus,
asexual and wondrous,
like a snowflake on a school boy's
temple.

Sign Inventory, week 6

"Main Temple Street, Puri" by Jayanta Mahapatra, Contemporary World Poetry, p. 416

• The last stanza begins with an odd contraction, "And," that is casually different from the rest of the work.
• There is a movement from people, "Children," to an abstraction of the "sky" at the end of the piece.
• There is a contrast between "unending rhythm," which ends line 4, and "crutches of silence" which ends line 11.
• There is a movement from sound, "laughing," to "silence."
• Illness and deformity is emphasized throughout with: "cripples," "mongrels," "shorn scalp," "Injuries," and "crutches."
• The sky is given absolute power, "inviolable authority."
• "The temple" is personified as "point"ing along with the sky "on its crutches," and "Injuries drowsy."
• There is a lack of care that is stressed with: "Nobody ever bothers" and "nothing seems to go away from sight."
• The work is lethargic with the lack of movement and "the heat."
• "Children" are "brown as earth" and the "dusty street" is "the colour of shorn scalp." Similes compare the ground to humans as vice versa.

Improv Entry, week 6

"Tree of Fire" by Adonis, Contemporary World Poetry, p. 286

The tree by the river
is weeping leaves.
It strews the shore
with tear after tear.
It reads to the river
its prophecy of fire.
I am that final
leaf that no one
sees
         My people
have died as fires
die--without a trace.

"Pool of Hair," by Darren Delfosse

The dog by the pool
is shedding fur.
It tufts the air
with shred after shred.
It spells out its allergies
to the ool.
Notice there's no P in it.
Let's try and keep it
that way.
                I've lost
dogs just as I've receded
hair--in handfuls.

Free write, week 6

Here's an exercise I've created based on Jane Satterfield's connection of the X-Files and Girl Scouts at an FBI shooting range, two entirely different entities with a common thread.

Mike Tyson and the YMCA

Gaps in space open like brains
Before input.
Output: flesh.
Bashing brains and scuttle thrashings
engaged and butted, tearing
and tearing from beady eyes and
vanquished hearts, ripe like lobes
of penetration.

Who wouldn't scream with an eagle
Owning the cumulous and beady-eyed too.
Beak vice-gripping, carnivorous, thirsty.

Fluttering up, down, up, down.
BAM! Like Lloyd Christmas on vacation
from ever looking the same.
One, two, three counts and it's out.
Clunky candy, ceramic fishing,
determination unflinching.

A spherical outing with tooth
brush capabilities and fracturing
tendencies.

How did he find it?
Bobbing for apples
in a sea of chemical imbalances.
Stink to the eyes, flippers united,
an unflappable urgency
To reunite in milk
as in glaciers newly bonded.

Response to Zac Cooper's week 6 Pedagogy Forum, week 6

You're totally right about the five paragraph essay not providing a worthwhile framework for our students' writing skills. However, I believe that evaluators for statewide writing tests are specifically trained to target these kinds of formulaic essays and fail them! There is a move to grade these essays on their ability to express sound ideas with good reasoning that are organized efficiently and are interesting due to word choice, sentence fluency, voice, and conventions. Transitions are also highly important so as to increase the flow of the work.

I always tell my students that four paragraphs are just as good as five, so long as they are well-developed, reasoned, and interesting. As teachers we need to continue creating better thinkers as we teach writing, and quality writing will inevitably follow. As you say, "the signs are what is important."

Pedagogy forum, week 6

I have been reflecting on my notes from the Ned Balbo and Jane Satterfield poetry reading on August 22. I thought that Satterfield had an interesting way of combining very different events. Her piece on the X-Files and girl scouts brought the past as a little girl at an FBI shooting range together with the strange and questioning nature of a sci-fi TV program. One line that stood out: "What were we doing there?" simultaneously applies to the show and the childhood. She did the same thing with Heathcliff from Gone with the Wind and contemporary life. I'm going to try to use this strategy in developing my poetry through calisthenics. One thing that disappointed me with the performances was how low they both spoke. I feel that reading poetry should be clearly audible and with inflection so as to engage one's audience.

Junkyard quotes 1-4, week 6

"Holy hormones Batman! I'm all out of quarters!" -Robin in Mad magazine comic

"We don't know a millionth of one percent about anything." -Thomas Edison

"Shit, if I knew it was goin' to be that kind of a party, I'da  sticked my dick in the mashed potatoes!" excerpt from Beastie Boys album Check your Head


"I like tuwtles." -Youtube clip

Pedagogy Forum, week 5

I’m working with Jonette on perfecting the art of the critique. As a veteran of poetry, she’s taken many more creative writing courses than I have and has a wealth of knowledge to offer. I’m learning how to pose more constructive questions and how relate my specific comments to the work as a whole. I’ve found that I often find details that seem to help or hinder a piece, but often am unable to express how to make it better or why something works. This is a difficult process because I haven’t practiced it much in the past. As an English teacher I critique many things, but usually creativity is lower on the list of priorities. I’m beginning to realize that maybe it should be higher. Creative writing is more important than it’s often given credit because it forces writers (and readers) to perform on a higher level of thinking. In fact, it forces us to work on multiple levels of thought.

Response to Billy’s Pedagogy Post 9.15.10, week 5

Billy raises an interesting question, what makes a poet a poet? I agree that it is hard to define who is and who isn’t a successful poet. This is because success is a subjective thing. What society deems as success might be whole different from what you are I believe. Therefore, to be successful poet does one have to be published, make money, or be famous? If those are the ingredients for success, then yes. However, if one deems success to be equated with happiness and one is most happy when writing poetry, then it seems that that person would be successful poet.

Currently, I am about as much a poet as I am a guitarist. I dabble. I can play a few chords, just like I can write a few decent lines. Therefore, because I play, I am a musician, albeit a novice at best. Similarly, I write poetry. I am a poet. And so are you.

Improv Post, week 5

“Conversation” by Dan Pagis, Contemporary World Poetry, p. 326

Four talked about the pine tree. One defined it by genus, species, and

variety. One assessed its disadvantages for the lumber industry. One

quoted poems about pine trees in many languages. One took root,

stretched out branches, and rustled.

“Digitation” by Darren Delfosse

Four gabbed about the Iphone. One bragged of its apps, features, and

sleekness. One bitched about its lack of multi-functionality. One

spat of world-wide reviews of it as a “game-changer.” One clutched it,

reared back, and hurled it into a wall.

Inventory post, week 5

“Betrayal” by Adam Zagajewski, Contemporary World Poetry, p. 155

• ·      The work moves from the perspective of “I” in the first line to “our” and “we” to the end.
• ·      “Betrayal” and “fidelity” end lines 2 and 3, emphasizing their “equal”ness.
• ·      The order of “a woman, friends, an idea” in line 4 is altered in lines 7-9.
• ·      The last two sentences begin at the end of their lines and are conditional, “But,” “If.”
• ·      The word “other” is used repeatedly in the second half of the piece, four times. The first two instances reference “limited”ness, while the second two emphasize a “quite different otherness.”
• ·      “Woman” and “ideas” are contrasted by “other,” while “friends” is contrasted by “the enemies of our long-standing friends.”
• ·       “Different otherness” is defined by verbs: “settle,” “touch,” “lose,” “meet.”
• ·      The final verb “meet” ends the second to last line and concerns the only spiritual reference: “a God other than our own.”
• ·      “God” is capitalized and in the last line of the text.
• ·      “She” is the only gendered pronoun in the piece.

Free entry, week 5

This is a creation that I wove out of something I apparently said once, but didn't remember saying. Thought it would be a good starting place.

Dangerous Alibis

It's not conducive to my flavor.
Maybe now, maybe later, but
Who flies in the face of danger
when dancing on the teeth of a gator?

I once saw something sinister,
better left unsaid,
about somebody dead.
Or maybe someone dying.
Is it really worth trying
or just giving up instead?

It's not what I wanted,
rooted in discernible atrocities
but who's wise to the whys
when there's only goodbyes
and all has been lost but
to win?

What is it in meanings
that's lost in just being,
the faces are beaming,
and they're triple-teaming,
again.

Calisthenics, week 5

This is from writing between the Greek lines in class and revising those lines in the "We are ten" exercise. I made one more revision that looks like this:

Inking Insignificance

We are eleven and building armored viruses
disguised as canoes.
We try all the keys,
yet they are primal as orbits.

We are Italian:
Our sauce far outstretching lava vomit tendencies.
Mullets tarry with our culture while
cacti nip at our water.

We are Supermen,
saving memories only of our motherland.
Multiple questions bellow past us-
dumb, conducive, urban.
Inferior as they are, they are liquid-
genius under beneficial patrons.

We attack altars while
moaning for Rome.
Musing many hates,
quieting flavors like numb lasers.

Squid inking the terrain,
mute and boldly revolting.

Insignias reign, the pious viruses
adhere to the labor of multiple impulses, whilst
tarantulas celebrate irately.

Junkyard quote 4, week 5

"I taste rainbows. Can you taste the rainbows?" -comedian Tom Papa, in reference to his daughter

Junkyard Quotes 1-3, week 5

"So you're saying there's a chance..." -Lloyd Christmas in Dumb and Dumber


"This is the dawning of the Age of Aquarius" -"Aquarius" from the musical Hair

"At home/ Drawing pictures of mountain tops/ With him on top/ Lemin yellow sun/ And the dead lay/ In pools of maroon below" -"Jeremy" by Pearl Jam

Inventory for Robert Lowell's "Reading Myself," p. 19 week 4

-From Contemporary American Poetry:

• The text contrasts fake "wax flowers" with real Mount "Parnassus" of Greece in lines 5-6.
• There is another contrast following Parnassus as the text begins a long detail of a bee's nest in line 7. This shift is emphasized further by the "..." which follows Parnassus.
• The word "just" is repeated in line 1, discussing deserved "pride."
• The words "matches," "boil," and "fire" in line 2-3 are used in reference to the speaker's "blood" and "tricks" in terms of writing.
• Line 8 focuses on circular, repetitious patterns in regards to the honeybee's work.
• The speaker claims he is "finished with wax flowers," but later refers to "wax and honey of a mausoleum." Therefore, there is a contradiction.
• The final line repeats "open" in reference to a "book" and a "coffin" along with a "..." to split the terms. This reflects the relationship between the bee's hive which "proves its maker is alive" and houses its "corpse."
• "Lives embalmed" is an oxymoronic phrase that parallels life and death.
•  There is a contrast between "sweet-tooth bear" and the word "desecrate."
• The poem moves from a first-person point of view, to a third-person point of view (describing the bees), back to first person in reference to the speaker's coffin. This reflects the circular language in line 8.

Imitation Post, week 4

Li-Young Lee in Contemporary American Poetry, p. 584:

One Heart

Look at the birds. Even flying
is born

out of nothing. The first sky
is inside you, open

at either end of day.
The work of wings

was always freedom, fastening
one heart to every falling thing.


"Kneading" by Darren Delfosse

Peer at the felines. Even kneading
is born

out of nowhere. The first need
is inside you, wanting

at both ends of day.
The work of paws

was always acceptance, stapling
one heart to every lonesome thing.

Calisthenics, week 4

After a long revision session, this is what I came up with from the "writing between the lines" exercise last class:

Merely Hesitant

It is somewhere between the stars

And the oceanic enterprise.

Shotgun shambles disseminate

As the cracks echo the night.

I love them as I swallow,

Cocked and unbroken.

There is a pungency in the urge

To answer a question

Held in the crosshairs.

Steady, I am supine

Before I knew what spiked me.

A kiss marks the asking

And a stunned silence

Breaks the noise.

Clowns mimicked us and we were

Peeping Toms staring at a corridor

Overlooked by meadows.

A swallow still sings

As whispers laugh at the wind.

Free Write, week 4

Here's a bit of free-range ventilation:

I can't stand pricks who don't have enough dignity to pick up a phone and discuss an issue civilly. Instead, they spend their time, ink, stamp, and paper to be an asshole and send you a letter explaining just how big of a douchebag they are. Now, the letter didn't actually say that, but the essence was unmistakable. I hate the condescending tone of older folks. I'm all about respecting elders, but really, give me the benefit of the doubt. Just because you're a tool doesn't mean that I'm incompetent. I can't stand kids that don't want to learn. I get it. You don't like school. You don't like me. You don't like the administration. You don't like your parent. You don't like yourself. But the fact is, you have plenty of people who know what they're talking about, telling you that school is necessary and a good idea for your future. Get your head out of your ass. I didn't like school either. But I was smart enough to know what was good for me and my future. Any kid is bright enough to figure that out. Kids are too soft. I'm softer than my dad. And he's softer than his. This is not a good trend.

Response to Melissa Stubbs' week3 Pedagogy Forum, week 4

I also struggle with the concept of committed detachment. I believe it has everything to do with the inherent nature of most people to want to control. People want to control reality and being creative is all about relinquishing control. You kind of need to take a backseat and let your subconscious do the driving for a while. Then after you’ve “created” you can consciously construct your form, rhythm, meter, etc. Inevitably, your meaning will be inscribed by constructing what you’ve already created. It’s not so much a deconstruction to “find” the meaning. The meaning is already there. You just have to mold it into an appealing shape.

Pedgogy Forum, week 4

Criticism is a difficult craft to master. I found this out first hand before our last class. As I was critiquing Randie and Trista's poems, I kept thinking that they seemed fairly strong. I discovered some minor problems, but ultimately felt that they contained strong imagery and evocative messages that were trimmed of excess baggage. I struggled with what to say and what not to, and how to say it. However, as we dissected each poem in class, I was inrigued by how much a knew but failed to express. Time and again other classmates expressed ideas that had crossed my mind, but that I never wrote down or didn't know how to. It was comforting to know that if I was confused by the speaker's place in a poem, others were too. I also learned that I often am expecting too much from my reader in my own writing. In the past, I always figured it was my poem so who cares what anyone else thinks? It makes since, however, that if we expect others to read our stuff, we have an obligation to make it possible.

Junkyard quotes 1-4, week 4

"A fanatic is a man who consciously over compensates a secret doubt." -Aldous Huxley

"I fink Chili's is closed on Saturdays." -3 year old nephew lying about the restaurant because he wanted to eat at Chick-fil-A.

"I never let schooling interfere with my education." -Mark Twain

"Atheism is a non-prophet organization." -George Carlin

Sign Inventory, week 3

"It Is This Way with Men", by C.K. Williams, Contemporary American Poetry, p. 425:

• What is the "It" in line 5? If the text is referring to men, then why does the speaker say, "And men, they too are wounded" in line 9?
• The word "ripen" is repeated in line 8, giving a feeling of perptuation.
• The word "soften" is also repeated in line 12. It is emphasized by bookcasing the line and enjambing "The core" in line 11.
• Unlike the spiny fruit, men do not "ripen and ripen." They "end," as is indicated in the final line.
• The seeds of men are "dark."
• The text lacks specificity. Other than "spiny fruit," both men and fruit are defined by "they" and "it."
• The word "sore" personifies the earth, giving it a visceral feel.
• "There" is repeated in line 13, giving the poem an even greater cyclical feel.
• "Softening" is emphasized in regards to humans, while hardness is stressed in reference to the fruit with words like "nails," "spiny," "pounded,"and "driven down again." These words also containg hard sounds.
• "Being raised and eaten" is preferred to constant ripening.

Pedagogy forum, week 3

I found the "When we go to..." calisthenics exercise to be particularly fruitful in generating ideas. The repetitive nature of using the same beginning gives the poetry a chant-like feel. This helps  me to springboard off of the refrain in a multitude of ways. I feel that my mind is better able to wander because I try to get away from the typical discourse that would normally follow the introduction. For example, I used "When we go to Paris" and I found myself trying t get away from typical Parisian story lines. Interestingly, I fell into the tourist trap of writing about the cultural vitality many look for in European countries. I didn't stumble upon this intentionally, but my writing consistently conjured up images of a sought after ethnic cleansing and what my subconscious really deemed was happening.

Improvisation, week 3

"For Friendship" by Robert Creeley in Contemporary American Poetry, p. 220

For friendship

make a chain that holds,

to be bound to

others, two by two,

a walk, a garland,

handed by hands

that cannot move

unless they hold.

"Linked Apart" by Darren Delfosse

Linked together

a solidarity that glimmers,

apart but intertwined

we are but one.

A spoken word,

a benign gesture,

we are tracking

in another's midst,

but stock still

in ourselves.

Calisthenics, week 3

This is the result of revising the "when we go to..." piece I began at the beginning of the last class.

When we go to Paris we fall monumentally.
When we go to Paris our insides get twisted and a puppy bites a stranger
Hard.
When we go to Paris the filth creates a film and is obligatorily shuttled
At light speed to vacant corners of xenophobia.
When we go to Paris we extract meaning from this filth and feel
As though we are already one leg up on
The competition.
When we go to Paris we become scarcely ethnic like
Miniature solar flares,
Announcing our arrival in fervor, but
Alone when we leave.
When we go to Paris
We Clutch at the far away and
Faceplant the horizon.
Head long and sullied
We dust ourselves off with a shrug and an utter as
Our guilt crawls into the meatlocker.

Junkyard quote 4, week 3

"Shhhhh! It's too hot outside to be a douchebag." -Christina Applegate on The Late Show with David Letterman in response to a police officer telling her where she couldn't park her car whilst being pregnant.

Response to classmate's journal, week 3

Reader response to Zac Cooper's post on children's perspective:
I agree with the suggestion that children offer unique, fresh perspectives to what adults take for granted. Not to get religious, but the Bible offers a bit of commentary on the subject. In  Matthew 18: 3-4 Jesus says, "Unless  you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven." It is clear that he also sees the value of a child-like point of view. In fact, he claims that it is the key to salvation. This makes sense when one considers the purity and innocence of a child. If Jesus is a promoter of goodness over sinning, then who is better than a child? Children aren't corrupted by the countless mistakes one makes throughout life. Therefore, their vision of the world is purest, most natural. Poetry is all about getting to the heart of language through economy. We are striving to reach our subconscious with various calisthenics. We can only get there by NOT thinking about what we want to write about.

Free write, week 3

Pointing in spectacular spiral
It pinches the light that spills forth
Careening with intensity
Until the last breath splits
From the monumental precipice.
It stands deceased however undulating
Anticipating the turn on that will release
The vitality from strangular vices.

Junkyard quotes 1-3, week 3

"Sometimes I just want to slap one of these motherfuckers!" -high school teacher upon entering co-teacher's classroom

"A man is rich in proportion to the number of things he can afford to let alone." -Henry David Thoreau

"I'm sure if he could get another chance, he would take it" -student's message in sympathy card to family of  suicide victim

Calisthenics, week 2

The result of random page turning/ quote finding after I revised the first draft:

Our words inherit nothing,
beget nothing.
And then he raises the washbowl
                                    and presses his teeth--biting
                                                             until the enamel crunches over
Our aching bones.
There are two vultures, motionless in the middle of the sky. I am asleep as
Acidic music of thistles and knives loosened itself from the shore and crossed
Over our mortal burden.

Sign inventory, week 2

Sign inventory for "Little Picture Catalogue" by Novica Tadic on p. 206 of Contemporary World Poetry:

• The first and second stanza's cadence is slowed by "o" sounds.
• In stanza one, "dead" breaks the slow "o" sound pattern.
• The "l" sound is prominent in stanza two, creating a lulling effect.
• In stanza three the three lines shorten rapidly down to the word "hen" as the last line of the stanza.
• Stanza four contains the only simile of the poem. It compares two occurences that are related to the same place- a "whorehouse."
• In stanza five there is a brief catalogue of vacant house items, emptiness being emphasized in the words.
• Stanzas two, three, and six make references to spirituality with the words "halo", "holy", "crucified", and "salvation."
• There are no proper nouns in the poem.
• Emptiness and anonymity are present throughout the text in the following words: "dead", "ghostly", "blind", "someone", "a customer", "a woman", "empty", "not one human face", and "unknown."
• All stanzas begin with prepositions except the last one which begins with "unknown."

Imitation Entry, week 2

Imitation of Agnes Nemes Nagy's "Like One Who," in Contemporary World Poetry Anthology.

Like One Who

Like one who brought news from afar
and then forgets his message,
and of all that gritty light only
a handful stuck with him, knotted...

so wanders the amnesiac
in his body's rumpled coat.

Comedian

Like one who claimed to know
the Truth and tries to convey it,
but all that anyone sees
is the rip in his pants, gaping...

so meanders the class clown
in a suit he knows not his.

Response to classmate's journal, week 2

In response to Laura L.'s pedagogy forum, week 2,  must agree that revising poetry must be a difficult task. In fact, I've really yet to try it. Through the readings I am learning the importance of revision and I figure that throughout the process one might actually become more emotionally connected to his poetry. The problem is, I don't know that I've ever felt strongly enough about a poem to revise it in the first place. I kind of want to attempt the process on some old writing just to see what I can stir up. And I guess that's kind of the point. It is a daunting process nonetheless. Especially of prose revision is any comparison.

Free entry, week 2

I have been experimenting with Hugo's "Triggering Town" technique and here's what I have so far:

Counter Case

Shifty gaze, there lies a mistrust
Hands moving mechanically, fishing out change
Head longing for its enclosure
Poking embers of dishevelment taunt the tension
A crass face with incandescent bulbs scrapes at my entitlement
As I grab a pack of gum

Pedagogy Forum, week 2

I am really enjoying The Triggering Town. The first three chapters clarified the early process of writing poetry. I find it refreshing that Hugo makes an art that is abstract and difficult to define, a seemingly attainable craft for anyone to enjoy. He explains how to write by explaining how not to. As poetry is a creative endeavor, it makes sense that to get to truth you have to be trying to find something else. By creating an imaginary town one can always attain a fresh perspective. The trick is, as Hugo explains, to nurture an emotional connection to your creation and let words do the driving.
    Chapter 6 also struck me because it enlightened me in terms of the purpose of poetry. Hugo's story about  his high school classmate confessing his encounter with a whorehouse in the 1940s really spoke to the value of the art. Hugo's teacher applauds the boy for his candidness in a time when most teachers would have kicked him out of school. God knows what that did for the boy's confidence and faith in the expression of himself. Hugo really sums up the value of creative writing in the following quote: "You may ridicule the affectionate way he takes that day through a life drab enough to need it, but please stay the hell away from me" (64). Here, Hugo is discussing the feeling of satisfaction one might take from the creation of a quality piece of writing and how he might cherish it throughout a lifetime. This reflection makes me realize the power we can give to students as teachers.

Junkyard quote 4, week 2

"I would far rather mean what I say than say what I mean." -Richard Hugo, The Triggering Town"

Junkyard Quotes, week 2

"Oooh, that bell said, 'Ding!'" -female student in the school hallway at Chapel Hill High School

"How do you live your life when nobody's watching?" -anonymous, from poster in classroom

"A question mark is a question mark and insecurities connect my parts." -lyric from P.M. Dawn song

Sign Inventory, week 1

This inventory comes from the poem "My Erotic Double" by John Ashbery, in The Vintage Book of Contemporary American Poetry, p. 284.

• The point of view shifts from 3rd to 1st to 2nd to 1st to 2nd to 1st to 2nd. This makes the poem more intimate as it progresses.
• The word "Erotic" in the title indicates a possible sexual nature words in the phrase "Another go-round?"
• The use of "go over" and "go-around" in regards to feelings gives a sterility to them as if they were objects of little concern.
• The narrator seems to be detached from feeling when interacting with his double when he emphasizes the intesity of "wordplay." Wordplay seems to fill the void of feeling.
• There is a loving nature between the two characters in the words "charming" and "rescue me." This indicates a security felt through interaction.
• The "dream" simile gives an unconscious nature to the relationship.
• There is a contradiction between the narrator and his double when he says, "You said it," followed immediately by, "I said it but I can hide it." This also indicates a dishonesty within himself.
• The character regains autonomy by exhibiting his ability to "choose" in the last stanza.
• The two characters converse amiacably at the end of the poem, which portrays a regaining of trust and an ultimately positive relationship.
• The placement of "The wordplay" is different than any of the other words, thus emphasizing its importance.

Calisthenics, week 1

Pass along poem activity

This was the end result as I made the last revision to a poem begun by another classmate and edited by another:

The Year I Escaped

Wind whipping
Grinding the taut face
Squinting eyes, knuckles white
Jarring bones constant
No heat, cold, worry
No thoughts, no stress.
Only dependency on
Me.
My pain, injury,
Miscalculation
Leading to loss
Left with
Me.

Imitation Entry, Week 1

The Vow

When the lover
goes, the vow though
broken remains, that
trace of eternity love
brings down among us
stays, to give
dignity to the suffering
and to intensify it.

-Galway Kinnel (Contemporary American Poetry, p. 302)

The Spirit

When a person
dies, the spirit though
porous remains, that
hint of incessant humanity
moves around and within us
here, to perpetuate
happiness to those longing
and to remind them of what was lost.

-Darren Delfosse

Pedagogy forum post, week 1

During the first day of class, I came to appreciate poetry a little more. The calisthenic exercises were intriguing and I really enjoyed recreating each others poetry. I would've liked to take mine home with me, so that I could have analyzed the changes that others had made. However, it was interesting to have another person's piece become my own.

Another big break through for me and the world of poetry was the realization that as readers the goal shouldn't necessarily be "to figure it out." The idea that poems can have multiple interpretations is intriguing and the fact that we are going to "blow up" poems in the sense that we are going to explore multiple perspectives is exciting. At the same time, I have always been taught to make an attempt at interpretation in terms of author's intent. It is hard to break from that mode of thought. In addition, I struggle with finding meaning in the process of writing it. I sometimes feel that in analyzing/ writing poetry there seems to be a fine line between creativity and b.s. I want to learn to appreciate the process of creating and analyzing without feeling that my attempts are meaningless.

Response to Jonette's Calisthenics Entry, Week 1

Your use of alliteration gives the poem a "ritualistic" feel. "Cup of coffee" and "fog and fountain" complement Pete's seemingly routine days at his barber shop. Similarly, your use of assonance also contributes to this effect. "Fountain drowns" and "swigging the bitter" give the poem a bit of rhythm. The contrast of a drab fountain clouded in fog versus its "phoenix"-like "ascendance" really draws attention to the fountain. It's as if this phenomenon inspires Peter to work. The shaves are closer in the morning, however, true to his consistent nature and "Marine" preciseness, "Pete cuts them all close." This is again testament to Peter’s routine.

Junkyard Quotes, Week 1

"I think, therefore I am." -Rene DesCartes

"You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not." -Barry from Dinner for Schmucks/ John Lennon

"A mind is a terrible thing." -Barry from Dinner for Schmucks/ United Negro College Fund

"I like tuwtles." -kid in zombie costume for Youtube video.

Free Entry, Week 1

Feeling anxious today. This is symptomatic of the hangovers. An interesting term, "hangover." Is it because I feel like I'm  hanging on the edge of a cliff, trying to escape abysmal depths?  Is it that something is hanging over my head, doom impending? Is it that the effects of last night hang over into the morning and eventually cease, leaving a void of anxiety? I often have worst case scenario thoughts on these days. My anxiety keeps my nerves on end so that I don't like to drive or do anything where I need to be in control. I know my senses are dulled and feel that my brain is sluggish. My dreams will be wild tonight, and I won't sleep very well. I hate the edginess of the hangover.