Daily Archives Sunday, May 2006

HER VOICE IS TINLIKE FLOATING

HER VOICE IS TINLIKE FLOATING THROUGH THE AIR EXPANSE OF OPEN ROADS DIVIDING US WHEN SHE COMES DOWN TO VISIT I USE NAIR

Poetry Reflection

I’m still conflicted about poetry—not quite ready to seal my judgment on it yet, which is good since I”m signed up for a poetry class next semester, but still… I never really felt I was able to get into poetry, I was always writing around it, trying to get at things I couldn’t really feel. [...]

Grandpa Abe

Someday, if I go bald I can blame my grandfather

It’s easy to blame someone you never met

I Hate Poetry

I hate poetry. Every word is wrong Disgustingly simple, cliché Who do I think I am? To define a phenomenon To know you have lied, misrepresented Or at least, tried your best and failed A growling shock of anger, indignance, despair. You search for words you know do not exist.

5/19: A Metal Show

The music is weak impotent, despite their valiant efforts to churn the air The bass swallows, the treble fades I know the song yet cannot find the parts Lost in this sea of adolescents and itching adolescent eagerness. My mind strains, and finally begins to find familiar notes My body wants to jump to sing to play Yet locked and bound I stand, maybe a sway But [...]

Recast Prose as Poetry: Muted Tones

Prose Sometimes Muted Tones are nice Almost the opposite of the blaring “I don’t trust you enough to let you find me on your own So I’m going to screech” -colors. Muted colors carry a subtlety their more saturated companions will never know. You want a white that looks white, but doesn’t really feel white; You want the cleanliness, but not the oppressive starkness of a sanitary ward. Elegance, simplicity in light. Muted light.

Happy Poem Re-Write

V.1 Wading through the mind’s sludge, You see, a search light drag across the jagged waters, you onward trod, ever vigilant, hoping (against hope) to find something of value to your own thrashing executioner.

5/10: Chiffon Air

Chiffon air rapture She screamed as she fell, thirty stories down, down her mad judo skillz couldn’t help her now. Squalid asphalt caught her archipelago of emotion (Did she bounce?) He looked at the calendar, too many lonely years ahead. He put down his fork, and jumped. They could not prevent the closing of his palendrome.

5/3: In Class – Question Game

What is lemonade? Two jiggers of kick and a shot of pizzazz.

5/2: In Class: Music/Movement

[Each of these poems was written after moving to a piece of music, then writing this while listening to the music again. Each number corresponds to a different song. If anyone else posted theirs, link to here so we can read how they're similar...]

Freewheeling and dealing, we’ll swoon together now Blossom and bright in clear fresh [...]