Sign Inventory - week 12

Serenade by Zach Savich

The sentences are short and choppy throughout the piece at many moments. It keeps the reader reading along on the journey we are discovering. We get glimpses of Ann throughout the piece (a more depressing tale) mixed in with more lively experiences and circumstances to lighten the mood of the poem entirely. We have the comical instance of the "Elmer's glue" man along side the dying Ann character. The poem paints vibrant images begging with the "technicolor weather". We are also introduced to the trumpet player who brings life and alertness in contrast to the dying mildness of Ann. We have trees blossomed outside the hospital. This is another contrast between life and death. We also have a rave at the end of which the speaker is leaving right before the mother of Ann shows up with Ann bruised so we have more contradiction of mood.

Calisthenics - week 12

The Nude Tug of War

Bare and bones stacked in seated positions, yielding order and rule.

Control and manifest destiny, yearning for more land, more power.
Men adorned with beaded sweat pulling frayed bits of rope.

Two sides, opposing, are demanding war, creating battles.

Nude sacks of flesh scrape along the pavement,
Bleeding for the Kings and fighting for the commoners.

Their bodies alone are a fortress of shelter and safety.

Vulnerable carcasses of humanity representative of their country.

Their home of which they long to return .
All they have to do is pull the rope out from under the other army.

Yank away the weapon of which you fight and you are destined to fall.

Force the hands to bleed against rough fibers, so it cuts through their palms.

 Stacked in front of each other like a line filed for death.

Like a stack of dominos, one streak of men will fall down.

For war stems from the primitive instincts to protect what’s yours.

Bones and flesh are the foundation that creates war, the nakedness of man.

And given one form of weaponry, war will be fought, even if it’s your own fists.

free write - week 12

Wheat Stalk

Church doors always open,

Swung wide at late hours of the night.

A man in a brown trench coat,

Pockets hidden inside overflowing

With loaves of wheat and grains.

A woman, hoarding children away,

Playing during a slumber party,

Gawking in awe of the bearded man.

He wants help, shelter, feet washed by Christ.

The woman directs him to a shelter,

Too far to walk, but she needs to rid him,

Like a fungus infection on the sole of your foot.

She can’t give him money like a harlot,

Or a ride to the shelter like a charitable taxi service,

for the safety of herself and the children,

She can’t even give him deli meats and cheeses

To adorn his tall loaf of white bread tucked in the coat.

So he tracks sewage into the church,

And leaves just the same,

Christ could not heal him at his haven.

There is no saintly presence beneath the steeple.

All that man was good for was making children glare,

 Wide eyed at the miraculous loaves of bread,

From a white young image of Christ,

And all wondered, “Where was the wine?”

junkyard quote 4 - week 12

"waiting for someone else to write their names in the air or water"

junkyard quote3 - week 12

"this poem in our pockets like a charm"

Junkyard quote2 - week 12

"Snow like tissue after tissue pulled from a box"

Junkyard quote - week 12

"i count thousands of names in my head"

improv-ing - week 12

Improv - Facing it by Yusef Komunyakaa

In the poem we discussed today
A man stood before names of the dead
I left class seeing shadows of soilders
Green canopies of camouflage.
 I stepped before an art exhibit
And became numb, reflecting on the memorial
I count thousands of names in my head.
A snowflake drifted to the tip of my nose.
Like the white flash of a booby trap.
The soles of my boots bounce on the earth.
And im driven towards to tundra of white light.
Wind whistles commands through my ears.
I become engulfed with strange faces.
All heading in the same direction as I.
All becoming fallen soldiers of the war.
Next I'm by a land mine.
I grip the rifle between m fingers.
Hot breath blows the smoke away.
And suddenly I'm home again.
I'm safe in my comforting cage.
Waiting to fight life's battles.

response 2 - week 11

This is a very interesting piece. As for minor comments, the guessing of the year should only have one date and the i loved the nectar and peached line. I love what you are doing in regards of playing off the Cinderella story. The end with the sandal is a nice fit. I love the specificity it makes it more unique and narrowed down to one particular instance in a real life scene. Otherwise its a great piece of work.

response 1 - week 11

There are are very large amounts of interesting images in this piece. I find the first stanza cohesive and the third stanza cohesive  in their own individual ways but they seem to be slightly disconnected from each other. The paper airplane seems a little off of the stanza as a image and stalks of celery is the same way for the first stanza. Some of the images in the third stanza become a little heavy and dark and may need to be toned down. There are a lot of great images in that first stanza and i think things could be worked more off of that.

Sign Inventory - week 11

Alzheimer's: the Wife

It encompasses the image of an Alzheimer's patient and the deterioration of the mind. It is a very personal thing that is documented here as an experience. The deterioration becomes more minor to progressing. There is rhyming at times in the piece. It asks questions. Vague approach to the face, calling it "it" as if disconnected from it with herself and her image. Ambiguity of the daughters in the pieced outlined by their belongings whether than who they are and phrasing "boy Jed" as a possession and not a person. There are short declarative sentences for the first two lines.

Improv 1, Week 11

Alzheimer's the Wife by C.K. Williams

Improv

My mother used to recite stories every day to me,
Stories that I heard time and time again,
To her they were real and new to present.
Each time she told of the time she farted on the toilet
I had to laugh even when it was so routine.
A genuine laugh, because she could tell if i faked
My mouth goes crooked and show half my teeth.
But for her i could do anything, for her love.
And when she would forget something about me
My age my, school grades, my friends,
I don't take it personally, she doesn't forget me.
She recognizes me on the hospital bed
She knows my name when all others blur,
She shares my love with her last remaining thoughts.

calisthenic 1, week 11

Virgin Lies

At the war, I was about to penetrate him dazzlingly when,
at furry parades, men abound
and dizzily from me, he twirled first
to his blue buffet
and then the obese, and he was satisfied,
sweetly before he sauntered the...
My teacup flew him rolling, too,
and a bastard, who yawned over.
He was a scary gorilla, purple,
glazed, chewed pancakes during the day
and his brother and mother
at night. He didn't skateboard
or try to master the pantomime
with which he wrote these elegies.
My toaster said: "Happens." Our crow
stalks half-heartedly to his sandbox
and was soon set towards us
with his special. feature,
of which he was inadvertently 
but so far only used to select two round scenes.
It was the pause
we'd usually call to rewind slowly a movie.
A subtitle, a muted audio, you taped
where he, or she, filmed. Our cinema
looped a feed
beside the popcorn
and we sang him soothingly.

Free Write , Week 11

Service Him Well

Edible note cards scented with lavender and coconut
Folded into cranes placed in the ash tray on my desk each morning.
Impression of lips pressed in magenta on the filter of my menthol cigarette
Tucked in the empty box and placed in my briefcase.
A black lace thong tucked into my cabinet,
Sitting upon files of sexual harassment cases.
At lunch a sleuth slips into my office and perches nude on mahogany.
I peel through the darkness and let my fingers outline your curves.
A key slipped into my back pocket through an embrace.
Enveloped in a coat you wiggle away like a mummy, cleaning lips.
Key attached to an address attached to a whore attached to my back pocket.
And a night lined in delusions with laced drinks
Leads me to your doorstep

Junkyard Quote 4, Week 11

"Perfect insanity, more appealing than chocolate"

Junkyard Quote 3, Week 11

"The sting of a missing beat on my mothers heart monitor"

Junkyard Quote 2, Week 11

"stiff limbs of crippled dogs in the sewers"

Junkyard Quote 1, Week 11

"curdled rays of sunlight on winter snow"

Response #1 - week 10

WOW! that is long. It is semi-consistent. There is a weird part about the burned child in the hospital that seems like a shift in story, a nice passage, that i know connects with the mother and the black heart and how she is as evil as the virgin mary. But is comes off sort of differently from the other passages. The story is a really nice well not "nice" but intriguing and well illustrated. I am not sure about fusing the biblical with the story because it gets jumbled and confusing somewhat. And im not sure if the questions at the end are needed or not, maybe phrase it without the questions. otherwise very good peice.

Sign Inventory - week 10

Robert Creeley - For Friendship

It shows a continuous cycle or circle of people, chained off, and pared off in twos. Humans do tend to come in pairs. Friendship is joined by hands and is a walk. The two short passages  paint a simple image but enough to get a point across of enough significance for the poem to matter. There are only eight lines and twenty-seven words, which is very small. But it is a cute poem. And the connection of people if very heightened, there has to be a connection of the hands as in holding.

improv-ing - week 10

Sharon Olds - The Promise


Improv

We have a suicide pact
Pricked fingers and signed blood
Barbarous actions but necessary\
We run off instinct
You trip, i catch you
Your sick, I care for you
You smell of perfume, I hold you close
And in your darkest hour
As you lose your grip
I cling close and we fly together
Like butterflys, singing in the night
As we both step off the edge

junkyard quote 4 - week 10

"The pastor makes me salivate for blood and flesh in tiny cups"

junkyard quote 3 - week 10

"Barbarous doctors stealing children from the womb"

junkyard quote 2 - week 10

"Cretan of the lagoon"

junkyard quote - week 10

"evangelical black bird on the church's steeple"

Free Write - Week 10

Night and Day

As routine as dental floss
I take the tiny tablet of joy
That asphyxiates the green goo coating my brain
And like a pharmacist i fulfill your needs
With my mundane language as I'm under a trance
Movements mechanical with rusty hinges
And the squeaking of an upset costumer
Does not even faze me
Colors bleed into a tranquil lake
And I swim and bathe blindly
Ignorant of my effect on the world
Blissful that i can still recall this morning
While yesterday drowns in the primary colors
And tomorrow doesnt exist until
The pill hits my tongue and I collapse in bed
With empty dreams and a mild snore.

Calisthenics - week 10

Dinner

Peering upon mounds of bushes and trees towering into a heap, into a hill

Which leads to a brown river across dirty land, and crashes into a snowy tundra

Coated in mud and that slides down its ski slopes.

If one hurtles over the tundra one lands in the deep ocean of greenery,

With slick mahogany tart lakes, streams, rivers, darting through the green.

Large globes of red block streams pathways, 

And square icebergs of yellow and white shed sand.

On the outskirts of the green sea lies a devious drench of water

With a yellow flotation device on top.

And beyond that sits metal bars on soil that can be moved.

They attack the diverse lands and destroy them,

Like an alien life form destroying our world.

Soon all of it is barren and dry,

With only dismembered scraps of the world are left behind.