Week #7--My Post to MacKenzie's "Calisthenic"

MacKenzie,

I admire your imaginative ability to ascribe so many descriptive details to such an ordinary task. Your use of alliteration is impressive, and your verb choices add imagery. I think some of the longer phrases could be shortened or rearranged to sound more concise--i.e. lines 1 and 2 could just read 'The scrapple-factory job just didn't work out.' Also, I would omit "across" in line 6, "dead" in line 12, "the cherished" in line 26,and "but" in line 27.

Perhaps an emotional reference back to the scrapple factory at the end would add even more human interest to the subject matter. As a whole, your draft is rich in possibilities to make a great read. I look forward to the rewrite!

Week #7--My Post to Sydney's "Improv"

Sydney,

I love many of the 'activities' you list, especially "Work on carving prophesies in stone," and "a quick lap around the lips with the twirl of the tongue." Your inventive "manely" adds humor, but 'tricks of the trade" sounds too cliche. More imagery might be needed there. Alberghotti's poem juxtaposes its text against the biblically-themed title which makes it seem more absurd. Your draft uses biblical language in both, so perhaps a different title would create the same dynamic--something about a circus, maybe. I would enjoy seeing a contracted version, perhaps in a different form, because it is a fun read. (Be sure to run your spellcheck, too!) Nice work!

Week #7--Junkyard Quotes

“If Euripides Eumenedes.” (as in, If you ripa dese, you mend-a dese) an old joke, perhaps, but it’s a new one on me.

Liane Hansen on NPR, Sunday Word Puzzle with Will Shorts on 2/20/2011.

“. . . a flash in the brain pan.”

Liane again on 2/27.

“Cause it’s fun to do bad things.”

Tyler Lyle song lyric quoting the reply of a 9 yr old child on a YouTube video to the question of why he drove his grandmother’s car around a parking lot and damaged vehicles.

“If you can't be kind, at least have the decency to be vague.”

From a forwarded email.

Week #7—Sign Inventory

Palm Reader Sees Long Love

by Leigh Ann Couch

You will reach the end of what

he will give. You’ll circle the barbed wire

(a blind woman inside it),

around it you’ll drive the borders

obsessively, cut into the quick,

hold your breath, wait in the dark

room, try to be the cleanest

pane of glass against it.

You’ll walk nights across no-numbered

highways crisscrossing themselves,

sine and cosine, you’ll squint and dash

for strips of green midriff between

asphalt—get to the other side.

You’ll wander through towns between counties

where people whisper see the crows

hammering inside her chest. You reach

the end of what he will give and hold

the markers in your arms like kindling.

Opening the book of gibberish to begin

again through wet fields of sawgrass

you set out for the end of what

he will take, hoping it takes forever.

Confessional with thrown voice of speaker through palm reader.

Tone is ironically prophetic and recounting (looks forward and backward like a palm reader). Short phrases of lines 5, 6, & 11 indicate an urgency or emphasis.

Enjambment with no rhyme scheme.

Some engagement of the absurd:  “try to be the cleanest pane of glass” and “green midriff between asphalt”

Simile: “markers in your arms like kindling”

Metaphoric language gives the poem a lot of ambiguity about what it really implies.

Title confers meaning to the poem

Geometric references of “circle,” criss-crossing,” “sine and cosine,” and “side.”

Narrative style includes ‘list’ of occurences.

Week #7--Calisthenic

Engaging the absurd:

The yardman murders the dirt with a leap of his pickax. The dirt screams but there are no witnesses. All the worms dive deep into chocolate cake and radio their troops to stand watch for the ax man. The daffodil bulbs nestle like babies incubated in the maternity ward, until hands scoop them up and take them to Friday. Carefully stacked in a round, green bucket, he carries them off to Sunday School where they learn to sing camp songs and drink beer. Oddly enough, the yardman marries the priest and they all bloom in November and live to be a hundred. The dirt is still screaming but now there are witnesses. According to Nikki Finke, it will be different after the rain rises.

Week #7--Improv

from John Berryman's
"Dream Songs"

14

Life, friends, is boring. We must not say so.
After all, the sky flashes, the great sea yearns,
we ourselves flash and yearn,
and moreover my mother told me as a boy
(repeatingly) ‘Ever to confess you’re bored
means you have no

Inner Resources.’ I conclude now I have no
inner resources, because I am heavy bored.
Peoples bore me,
literature bores me, especially great literature,
Henry bores me, with his plights & gripes
as bad as achilles,

who loves people and valiant art, which bores me.
And the tranquil hills, & gin, look like a drag
and somehow a dog
has taken itself & its tail considerably away
into mountains or sea or sky, leaving
behind: me, wag.

My riff:

-1

Marriage, folks, is delightful. Just believe it’s true.

After all, cats couple, the young birds tweet,

human beings couple and tweet,

and besides my father told me as a girl

(incessantly) ‘Once you’ve made your bed

you have to

Lie In It.’ I concede now I have to

lie in it, because I am sore delighted.

Newlyweds delight me,

ceremonies delight me, especially marriage ceremonies,

Kate delights me, with her ring and a date
as hype as hysteria,

who wins her prince and royal title, which delights me.

And the growling wind, & beer, sound like a burp

and somehow a bird

has flown itself & its voice audibly away

into grass or lake or trees, leaving

behind: me, chirp.

Week #7--Free Entry #1

At Dr. D's suggestion, here is a sentimentally-themed draft about a dead creature, rewritten from my Improv in Week #1:

   

          Croaked

Pandiculated by the pull of 3100 GPH,
Permission to eject denied,
Unsung, undone to landscape folly,
This boasty, bullified, baritone died.

Jammed into the pond’s black heart—
sporting Marty Feldman eyes—
he splays two four-digit high-fives
to signal his dastardly demise.

His slickened spine secretes some heat
as rubber fingers wrap his belly;
bloated from his futile struggle,
it jiggles just like apple jelly.

I pull and pull ‘til he pops out,
as do his vitals—down they go—
along with meaty, mighty legs
to disappear in liquid snow.

His vacant corpse rests in my hand
as I share his mad despair,
for I, the keeper of the pond
could not have saved him dying there.

I feel so sad to lose this friend
for he could orate like no other.
I buried the proud torso near the pond
And dearly hope he spawned another.

Week #6--Sign Inventory

The White Doves of Mazar
        for Nabilia
by Timothy McBride (posted on versedaily.org on 2/19/11)

For crusts of bread
these sacred birds entrust
their bodies to your hands
despite the evidence of blood
in every street
and twenty-seven years of war.
Though nothing will change
for the Hazaras and Uzbeks,
the Pashtuns and Tajiks,
the Arabs, Russians, and Americans
try nonetheless to feel
the slight heartbeat
against your palms. Touch
the ruffed head
and trembling wings—
helpless now and beautiful—
as if they were the framed,
unfinished faces of the dead.

The poem’s tone is tragic and mournful, also religious intonations occur in
“crusts of bread” and “sacred.”

Rhymes of “crust” and “entrust,” in lines one and two. “ruffed” in line 14 shares assonance with “Touch” in line 13.

Only one end rhyme of “head” in line 14 with “dead” in line 18.

The ethnic names provide a sense of place and time and challenge the tongue, while “nonetheless,” which follows them, rolls off the tongue smoothly.

“blood in every street” in lines 4 and 5 delivers vivid imagery of war-torn cities.

In lines 17 and 18, “framed, unfinished faces” could disguise another meaning of “unframed, finished faces.”

the lack of comma after “Americans” in line makes the subject of the sentence ambiguous.

The contemporary structure of the poem and its enjambment assert that nothing changes for the speaker in his chosen mode of expression, just as nothing changes for the people at war.

Week #6--Free Entry #1

No Can Do

I can’t do it.

I can’t become—the mother you missed out on.

I can’t replace—the father who fell apart.

I can’t tolerate—the child you choose to remain.

I can’t articulate—the words that garrote your gullet.

I can’t read—the thoughts you thoughtlessly keep.

I can’t imagine—you as a forever friend.

I can’t connote—what ruination you wreak.

I can’t, can’t, CANNOT—continue to compensate for you.

I can’t—tell you what a pleasure it’s been to have this little talk.

Week #6--Response to MacKenzie's Free Write

MacKenzie,

It’s hard to write about pets and not be sentimental. I think this draft could be less so if you took away the obvious. By that I mean by not stating what or who Jimmy is and let your reader figure it out. I like your descriptive phrases like “when bacon hops in the skillet,” “the simper in his eyes,” and “like a malfunctioning compass”. Perhaps ‘treating’ Jimmy as a human instead of dog might make the draft more fun and surprising to read. For instance, start with the last two “maybe” lines first, as if you are mad at your bedmate, teasing him about pedaling with his feet at 3 a.m. Change the title, too. I want to find out for myself. Your draft has good potential for having a “mickey” with someone for whom you hold great affection.

Week #6--Response to Ben's Free Entry for Week 5

Ben,

I think the form of your contraction rewrite of Williams’ treatise on fear sits more appealingly on the page and reads better than hers, thanks to your more concise sentences and questions. However, it maintains her didactic tone and therefore lacks any imagery (i.e. light and dark in line three) that might make it more exciting. The switch from first person singular to a collective first person plural gets a little jerky. I think it should be all about the speaker.

I wonder how it would sound if the two questions of the first stanza were asked first. The ‘fear’ of the first two lines could use more qualification, such as “innermost,” or “ultimate.” The second stanza speaks in the negative for the most part, so the second line, being a positive one, might fit better at the stanza’s end in order to help ‘turn’ from negative to positive. The word “presence” in the last stanza sounds flat against “shine” and the last line could use more punch. I think this whole draft is a good launching pad for taking each line, see if it stands alone, and try enhancing it with much more imagistic and personal language while still allowing it to respond to the questions.

Week #6—Junkyard Quotes

“Math is Satan in number form…”

Spoken by Stanley Stewart to Brandon Lee in recording on WABE’s City Café

van der Waals force — the sum of the attractive or repulsive forces between molecules.

Pitot valves—instruments which measure air speed on the Airbus 330 and which may have malfunctioned in the crash of AF447 in 2009.

“I just luuuvvve naked trees!”

my friend Sue

“She likes his true colors so she accepts his gift of sperm.”

Narrator of “Reefs and Wrecks in the Caribbean” documentary on GPB in reference to the mating of a certain type of sargeant fish.

Week #6--Improv

Metaphors

by Sylvia Plath

I’m a riddle in nine syllables,

An elephant, a ponderosa house,

A melon strolling on two tendrils,

O red fruit, ivory, fine timbers!

This loaf’s big with its yeasty rising.

Money’s new-minted in this fat purse.

I’m a means, a stage, a cow in calf.

I’ve eaten a big bag of green apples

Boarded the train there’s no getting off.

           

Birthday Lament

by Pauline Rodwell

I’m a carrier of three scores,

A biddy, a redundant baby-boomer,

A fruitcake headed for the dustbin,

O fossilized nut, wizened, silver sage!

This RAM’s full of former names and places.

Bones click-clack in the middle of the night.

I’m a fogey, a has-been, a grandma-type.

I make senior look effortless before noon

Starting Act Three there are no more Intermissions.

Week #6—Calisthenics

An anaphora exercise using Eliot Kahlil Wilson’s “Wedding Vows” as a model:

There is no one else to vouch for you at the bank, run your errands around town, fill up your car with gas, even wash it for you sometimes, or agree with you when you’re wrong.

There is no one else to make sure you get to your PCP for your annual physical, your dentist, too, and to sit beside your bed when you are sick and need some water to wet your dry and too often taciturn mouth.

There is no one else to keep your dinner warm and sit with you while you eat after you walk in at 9:00 at night, too brain-dead to ask me about my day or take out the garbage, but not too spent to watch JAG on Cable.

There is no one else, not even your mother, to kiss you like you hung the moon, or at least painted it on the ceiling, which might have been nice, and to tell you that you’re the nicest thing that ever happened to one who’s had a lot of good things in her life.

There is no one else to wash the sheets and make the bed so you can sprawl on it each night and snore the hours away as if you were Rip van Winkle, hogging the covers and running your toe-razors against my calves, and to wait until you’re in the mood.

There is no one else. . . is there?

Week #5--Calisthenic

This is an ‘ekphrasis’ exercise using the principle character of the movie, “Black Swan,” as subject.

Obscured by facial expressions and camera tricks,

her bad technique, which is supposedly perfect,

goes unseen by those who know

and by those who don’t much care.

The ballet director uses her to make

himself look good. Her fragile,

anorexic form bares a love-hate

relationship with fattening food. Her

mother invades her space too much,

too deeply to let her be herself, so

she throws her up and locks her out

of her bedroom so she can sprout wings.

A perfect Odette, she lacks Odile’s earthy

captivations, so she gets drugged

by a supposed friend, confuses fantasy

with reality, and dances off

to her perfect but untimely end.

Week #5--Sign Inventory for “My Father’s Love Letters” by Yusef Komunyakaa

The first letter of each line is capitalized.

The ampersand replaces “and”

“quiet brutality” in line 19 has two meanings

Enjambment disguises complete sentences throughout the poem, making it seem disconnected like the speaker’s parents.

Verbs like “beg,” “promising,” “[l]ost,” and “redeemed” contrast stronger images portrayed by “bulged,” “[l]ooped,” “coiled,” “[p]ulled,” “balled,” and “[l]aboring.”

“Words rolled” contrasts the father’s inability to speak or write.

No rhyme scheme at all. Contractions make language seem colloquial.

Written in past tense, as if speaker is telling about his childhood and speaking for his father at the same time, so as to bring him into the present for redemption.

Week #5--My Post to Kris' Free Entry Week #5

Kris,

I like the apocalyptic tone of this draft and how it "answers" Alberghotti's poem in a rebellious way. The words "burning" and "sit" appear twice--both could use a metaphor or simile. In the last line, "bloodthirsty rays" works well to make the sun like a predator instead of a nurturer. Overall, it is a good expression of an alarming scientific reality; however, I think some rewording with less frequent use of passive voice and even more descriptive words,possibly astrological terms would give it more impact to the reader. I see a lot of potential in this draft to become a great poem. Good luck!

February 13, 2011 10:45 AM

Week #5--My Post to Elizabeth Wood's Free Entry #1, Week #3

Pauline I hear a philosopher in this writing and think a less narrative treatment of the subject matter will make it more poetic. (The word "identical" in the second sentence gives me pause, for I would argue that they are necessary to each other, as in complementary, but not necessarily identical. The factor of time plays a part in this, too, but I digress.) I wonder how this might read if you take out the verbs and start reorganizing phrases. This draft has the potential to sound less prosy and much more poetic, especially with phrases like "paper unmakes trees" and alliteration like "sledgehammer simultaneously." Addtional metaphors will bring it to life, too. Hope I get to read the revision!

February 12, 2011 1:17 PM

Week #5—Improv

Topography
                by Sharon Olds

After we flew across the country we
got into bed, laid our bodies
delicately together, like maps laid
face to face, East to West, my
San Francisco against your New York, your
Fire Island against my Sonoma, my
New Orleans deep in your Texas, your Idaho
bright on my Great Lakes, my Kansas
burning against your Kansas, your Kansas
burning against my Kasas, your Easter
Standard Time pressing into my
Pacific Time, my Mountain Time
beating against your Central time, your
sun rising swiftly from the right my
sun rising swiftly from the left your
moon rising slowly from the left my
moon rising slowly from the right until
all four bodies of the sky
burn above us, sealing us together,
all our cities twin cities,
all our staes united, one
nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.

            Automania

After we left the restaurant we

got into our cars, drove them

side-by-side, like race cars speeding

to the finish line, bumper to bumper, my

Toyota Sienna against your Mazda RX-7, your

5-speed transmission against my automatic, my

heated leather seats burning your black buckets, your Sirius

music loud on my NPR news, my speed

gaining your speed, your speed

gaining my speed, your

GPS system navigating my

DVD player, my CD player

blasting your Bluetooth, your

tires blazing on the left my

tires blazing on the right your

alloys glinting from the left my

alloys glinting from the right until

all eight wheels on the road

burn beneath us, melting us in sync,

both our actions dual actions,

both our egos fused, one

race, unwinnable, due to speed trap dead ahead.

Week #5--Junkyard Quotes

“That’s not snirt. It’s a big pile of snit!”

“sacred rage” = Terry Tempest Williams in her interview with Krista Tippett at onbeing.org

“silver tsunami” = used by news reporter to describe growing problem of scamming seniors

oobleck = a polymer made up of cornstarch and water.

Week #5--Free Entry #1

Following some of Kris's advice, as well as changing voice to third person, I have reworked "Oneiromancer" from Week #4:

Oneiromancer

A shimmering chimera chants to her,

as lustily as thirsty fire—

faultless, floating, celestial spectre;

    slain

she spots it from her funeral pyre.

Transposed to planet’s rounded edge,

now stripped of all her earthly means,

she titillates to angels’ choirs:

 “Hark!”

and to their Hymn her shadow leans—

but suddenly she’s flesh again.

Discarded cloak down rabbit’s hole—

that nanosecond when she

            unearthed

a prescient and most precious gold.

Week #4--Free Entry #1

Oneiromancer

A golden chimera sings to me,

as lustily as thirsty fire—faultless,

floating, golden dream;

detached

I spot it from my funeral pyre.

My blackened soul stands by itself—

stripped of all its earthly means. Before me, realms

of salacious cells teem in holy harmony.

Hark!

Almost scorched my shadow leans—then I awake

à terre again. Who stole my cloak?

Mark that rabbit hole! For

in the nanosecond  where I

            unearthed

I saw the miracle of love unfold.

Week #4-My post to Erickson's "Writing It" from Week #3

Erikson,
I like your improv of Komunyakaa's "Facing It," especially how it transitions from fear, to writing, to MLK and his "tap-dancing on the hearts of men", which, for me, evokes images of several talented black dancers. I think the last three lines could use more impact, perhaps by replacing "weakening" with a different word and  by inserting a qualifier for "A man" in the last line. Overall, I come away with the feeling of the struggle for expression that reflects the black struggle for freedom, and I hope that's what you intended for the poem. Nicely done!

Week #4--Calisthenic

This is a ‘tweaked’ draft composed from our in-class calisthenic on Wednesday:

Waiting for the Vampire Troubador

Ghouls sauntered through the cemetery,

their tongueless breath freezing as they

waited for the vampire troubadour

to move again. The moon bronzed bright

over the city, served up by a night

as bitter as the lie of the English empire,

expanding like a supernova, then

fracturing into uprooted graves.

Fat faces round as Jupiter grin like

breakers in the fog, lapping up dark

earth beside a laughing river. A Chinese

woman unknowingly seduces a nameless man

who falls head first into her blanched, almond neck.

Week #4—Sign Inventory

“Topography” by Sharon Olds

The tone of this clever poem is both sensual and humorous.

All of the verbs apply to sexual intimacy and used with place names supply the poem’s humor.

The nouns in the first three lines, “country,” “bed,” and “bodies,” delineate a journey of worlds from impersonal to intimate, large to small, general to specific. The ending of the poem reverses this order, going from “cities” to “states” to “nation.”

The poem’s ending wraps up loose ends (no pun intended) and provides the same kind of unifying satisfaction of a closed ending in Romantic fiction.

Each partner seems to have qualifiers which oppose the other’s, except for Kansas, which they share in common. Kansas occurs in the middle of the poem, indicating a peak or climax.

The phrase “laid our bodies delicately together” suggests a timidity which is contrasted at the poem’s end with the deliberate “indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.”

There are three categories of juxtapostioning:  direction (East and West), time zones (EST, PT, MT, CT) and space objects (sun and moon).

Lines 14-17 imply the rolling over of the bodies in a kind of kinetic onomatopoeia.

The phrase “four bodies of the sky” invites further study: Does the speaker mean the two lovers plus the sun and moon, as if the lovers were gods or spiritually elevated, or does she mean the sun and moon as seen from the bed as the two roll around? Are there other implications?

Week #4 - My Post to Candis' Improv for Week #4

Candis,
I think you have followed Dickinson's poem very closely, perhaps too verbatim. I like your theme of "school" and the juxtaposition of 'instructor' to 'janitor' against "landlord" and "maids".  "Abnormal" doesn't seem to relate to education though, but 'ignorant' or "reluctant" does. Your last line refers back to Dickinson's theme instead of to yours. Perhaps a different question would make better sense for your draft. Overall, with minor adjustments, I think it will read as well as Dickinson's.

Week #4 - Improv

This is an improv’ of Dan Albergotti’s poem “Among the Things He Does Not Deserve”:

Some Things She’ll Never Dream About

Red sports cars, a 401K, any sort of dog, becoming a nurse, grandchildren, mowing the grass, joining the Army, washing her car, becoming President, travelling to South America, owning no cats, computer programming, entering a triathlon, painting portraits of people, winter, a Godless world, newspapers, frozen dinners, chili peppers, slaughtering horses, not living, fallen angels, the price-at-the-pump, a case of warm beer, wearing tight blue jeans, parachuting from 20,000 feet, playing for a rock band, remarriage, sporting flip-flops, anything unnatural, bad food at the English bakery, the greedy look of his colorless eyes.

Week #4--Junkyard Quotes

“settled with a stone-age mind”

“leavened with humor”

“sometime between September and Wednesday”

"It's a blizzaster."

“a squadron of blackbirds wearing sergeant stripes”