Remembrance of Who I Am
-Britney Spears
No more chains
That you gave me.
Enough of pain
Now I'm craving
Something sweet, so delight
How do you stand sleeping at night?
Silly patterns that we follow
You pull me in
I'm being swallowed.
By the ones you think you love
They pull you down
You can't see up above.
Manipulation is the key
They screw it in
Because you're naive.
You come to me now
Why do you bother?
Remember the Bible
The sins of the Father.
What you do
You pass down
No wonder why
I lost my crown.
--------------------------------------------
Garbage Man
No more loose trash
That you leave in the can.
Enough of the banana peels
That don’t make it inside the bag.
Now I’m jogging
Up the street, hiding
From your son with the forgotten
sack. Something rancid in his face
Tells me its from a baby’s room.
How do you stand sleeping at night?
Those weekly patterns that we follow
You pull me in
I'm being swallowed.
By the garbage you think you love.
The trash can pull you down
You can't see up above.
Family is the key, the more
Kids, the more waste.
They pile it in
Because they’re naive.
You come to me now,
Why do you bother?
Remember the 60s,
The sins of the supermarket?
What do you pass down?
No wonder why
I lost my union card.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Response to student journal, Week 7
Randie,
This draft owns a great deal of valuable language that I think you can gather for an even tighter revision. Some of the best, most interesting lines in the draft are: my family standing together like paper dolls, looking back, my father could never look us straight in the eye, Spike, the Boston Terrier, trying to escape my sister’s grasp, her eyes always droop at the sight of a camera, etc. I think that these lines are great and you could even condense them a little bit further. For example, “Remembering that chimera of my family standing together like the paper dolls I used to cut out of stationary paper, bits of our address still peeking out from their feet.” This is a huge sentence! What about: In the photo, my family stands together like a chair of paper dolls. I like the part about the address peeking out from under their feet, but I really think that may not fit. I like the idea of a chain of paper dolls, because it seems this family is connected (like all families), but brittle and easy to tear. Another suggestion for condensing would be for the line: Looking back at how my father could never look us straight in the eye, his back always turned from us. You have look twice in the line. You could have thinking back or just leave it out all together, because it is understood that the speaker is looking back by the sheer act of viewing an old photo. What if it where something like, My father never could look us in the eye, his back always turned from us in every memory. Great possibilities here.
This draft owns a great deal of valuable language that I think you can gather for an even tighter revision. Some of the best, most interesting lines in the draft are: my family standing together like paper dolls, looking back, my father could never look us straight in the eye, Spike, the Boston Terrier, trying to escape my sister’s grasp, her eyes always droop at the sight of a camera, etc. I think that these lines are great and you could even condense them a little bit further. For example, “Remembering that chimera of my family standing together like the paper dolls I used to cut out of stationary paper, bits of our address still peeking out from their feet.” This is a huge sentence! What about: In the photo, my family stands together like a chair of paper dolls. I like the part about the address peeking out from under their feet, but I really think that may not fit. I like the idea of a chain of paper dolls, because it seems this family is connected (like all families), but brittle and easy to tear. Another suggestion for condensing would be for the line: Looking back at how my father could never look us straight in the eye, his back always turned from us. You have look twice in the line. You could have thinking back or just leave it out all together, because it is understood that the speaker is looking back by the sheer act of viewing an old photo. What if it where something like, My father never could look us in the eye, his back always turned from us in every memory. Great possibilities here.
Sign inventory, Week 7
Empire of Dreams
-Charles Simic
*The poem notes several moments of negatation or a lack of something: I’m on a street corner where I shouldn’t be, alone and coatless, I am afraid to put [the mask] on, etc.
*The first line sets the poem in the “always present,” because it is always evening every time the speaker opens his dream book.
*The speaker’s dream is riddled with war/occupied terminology: in an occupied country, hour before curfew, all the houses are dark, storefronts gutted, on a street corner where I shouldn’t be, the speaker has to wear a mask.
*The title lends to a controlled environment in the speaker’s dream with Empire.
*The poem is set in an ominous light: hour before curfew, all the houses are dark, he is going out looking for a black dog, he wears “a kind of Halloween” mask.
*There are not many concrete details in the poem other than Halloween; the reminder of the poem is more general: in an occupied country, a small provincial city, I am on a street corner where I shouldn’t be, etc.
*The Halloween mask gives concern to the speaker’s need for concealment.
*The speaker and the dog have some kind of special connection because the dog only answers to “my whistle.”
*By looking for the dog, the speaker puts himself in a sense of danger, because he is out in the city at night when he shouldn’t be; and he is cutting it close to curfew.
*The speaker has the option to conceal himself with the Halloween mask, but is afraid to do so.
-Charles Simic
*The poem notes several moments of negatation or a lack of something: I’m on a street corner where I shouldn’t be, alone and coatless, I am afraid to put [the mask] on, etc.
*The first line sets the poem in the “always present,” because it is always evening every time the speaker opens his dream book.
*The speaker’s dream is riddled with war/occupied terminology: in an occupied country, hour before curfew, all the houses are dark, storefronts gutted, on a street corner where I shouldn’t be, the speaker has to wear a mask.
*The title lends to a controlled environment in the speaker’s dream with Empire.
*The poem is set in an ominous light: hour before curfew, all the houses are dark, he is going out looking for a black dog, he wears “a kind of Halloween” mask.
*There are not many concrete details in the poem other than Halloween; the reminder of the poem is more general: in an occupied country, a small provincial city, I am on a street corner where I shouldn’t be, etc.
*The Halloween mask gives concern to the speaker’s need for concealment.
*The speaker and the dog have some kind of special connection because the dog only answers to “my whistle.”
*By looking for the dog, the speaker puts himself in a sense of danger, because he is out in the city at night when he shouldn’t be; and he is cutting it close to curfew.
*The speaker has the option to conceal himself with the Halloween mask, but is afraid to do so.
Improv, Week 7
Lying in a Hammock at William Duffy's Farm in Pine Island, Minnesota
-James Wright
Over my head, I see the bronze butterfly,
Asleep on the black trunk,
Blowing like a leaf in green shadow.
Down the ravine behind the empty house,
The cowbells follow one another
Into the distance of the afternoon.
To my right,
In a field of sunlight between two pines,
The droppings of last year’s horses
Blaze up into golden stones.
I lean back, as the evening darkens and comes on.
A chicken hawk floats over, looking for home.
I have wasted my life.
---------------------------------------------------------------
Next to my bed, I watch a fly flirt with the rim
Of the coffee cup, the dog sleeps at my feet,
And a breeze lulls through the window.
Downstairs the children rattle their breakfast
Plates, the T.V. shrills just above their voices,
Somewhere a door slams.
Above the dresser hangs a necklace on a nail,
Wrapped in a coat of light from the window.
Last year’s dust still layers the picture frames.
I prop myself up, pull the covers to my chest,
A daughter barges into the room for lunch money.
I have nothing but this life.
-James Wright
Over my head, I see the bronze butterfly,
Asleep on the black trunk,
Blowing like a leaf in green shadow.
Down the ravine behind the empty house,
The cowbells follow one another
Into the distance of the afternoon.
To my right,
In a field of sunlight between two pines,
The droppings of last year’s horses
Blaze up into golden stones.
I lean back, as the evening darkens and comes on.
A chicken hawk floats over, looking for home.
I have wasted my life.
---------------------------------------------------------------
Next to my bed, I watch a fly flirt with the rim
Of the coffee cup, the dog sleeps at my feet,
And a breeze lulls through the window.
Downstairs the children rattle their breakfast
Plates, the T.V. shrills just above their voices,
Somewhere a door slams.
Above the dresser hangs a necklace on a nail,
Wrapped in a coat of light from the window.
Last year’s dust still layers the picture frames.
I prop myself up, pull the covers to my chest,
A daughter barges into the room for lunch money.
I have nothing but this life.
Junkyard Quotes 1-4, Week 7
"The pint-sized house of worship was built in 1989, and is just 3 feet by 6 feet and has only two seats."
"the tree's branches are draped with footwear"
-best roadside attractions
"Look at a satellite picture of Russia"
-The Washington Post
"A picture of a dog on a bike serves no social purpose"
"the tree's branches are draped with footwear"
-best roadside attractions
"Look at a satellite picture of Russia"
-The Washington Post
"A picture of a dog on a bike serves no social purpose"
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Free entry, Week 7
There is a blue gleam in the alcohol
that swims in your eyes. I find it irresistible
not to put a straw in you and drink.
I want to put you in a pond so see if you will
float. It will only take a gentle heave
before you find yourself in a sea of starlight
and lily pads. I want to make a paper doll
of you, to keep in my nightstand to use
as a bookmark. I want to take you home
just as you are, but the empty glass in your hand
tells us we’re come to the end of the night.
I consider the flavor of your favorite ice cream,
what color it is against your tongue as I hug you
goodnight and hail a cab. You tell me not to
be so melodramatic-that there’s another bar
down the street. I consider this.
When something this good is happening,
you say, there isn’t any way to stop.
You haven’t been home in five months,
I remind you, our six-year-old started wetting the bed.
Now, I want to be the woman you took to bed
last fall, the leggy waitress with the birthmark
behind her ear. I want to remember the night
I found out, so that tonight I get in the cab.
I consider telling you that your mother called,
Thanksgiving is at Aunt Pauline’s this year.
I wondered why we never told her why
our six-year-old started wetting the bed.
that swims in your eyes. I find it irresistible
not to put a straw in you and drink.
I want to put you in a pond so see if you will
float. It will only take a gentle heave
before you find yourself in a sea of starlight
and lily pads. I want to make a paper doll
of you, to keep in my nightstand to use
as a bookmark. I want to take you home
just as you are, but the empty glass in your hand
tells us we’re come to the end of the night.
I consider the flavor of your favorite ice cream,
what color it is against your tongue as I hug you
goodnight and hail a cab. You tell me not to
be so melodramatic-that there’s another bar
down the street. I consider this.
When something this good is happening,
you say, there isn’t any way to stop.
You haven’t been home in five months,
I remind you, our six-year-old started wetting the bed.
Now, I want to be the woman you took to bed
last fall, the leggy waitress with the birthmark
behind her ear. I want to remember the night
I found out, so that tonight I get in the cab.
I consider telling you that your mother called,
Thanksgiving is at Aunt Pauline’s this year.
I wondered why we never told her why
our six-year-old started wetting the bed.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Pedagogy forum, Week 6
One thing that I have been pondering over the past week or so is how to get students to understand how to give the best construction criticism to help peers in a workshop environment. This question stems from obsevering student comments in our own poetry workshop and working with Amy Ellison in 1101 English. There have been a few days of workshopping sign inventories as well as outlines from future essays in 1101 and more often than not students are afraid to ask questions of a peer’s paper. I think that the most important thing to do as an instructor is to push the students to ask questions and then based upon those questions ask themselves if it can be answered with evidence from the text. In a creative writing workshop it seems sometimes that there is an extra layer of inhibition when the work examined is thought to be “personal.” How can the myth be overcome? The myth of “well you’re the writer and if that’s how you wrote it then by all means keep it that way,” seems so hard for students to overcome. What is the reluctance for students to let this myth go?
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