Les Montres Molles, 1968. (His Last Painting.)
We met at the edge of time. His talents curled
off his lips melting drops of water, shadowing
reflections of his dead brother. Wild-eyed,
he explained his theories of pocket watches
and expanding landscapes, as if I understood
their luxuries.
He was 84 as I watched his last breath
twister up into the sky, drawing shattered
pieces of him and his father's relationship.
Unforgiving, he decayed, a fly ate away time
that his father never cared for. A lonely moth he sat
edging away from his art.
I really enjoy the imagery in your poem. “talents curling off lips” and ‘his last breath twister[ing] up into the sky”. You’re using circular imagery, which I think matches perfect with the idea of time and watches. GREAT. It seems to me like you’re conveying a little bit of elegance to a haphazard, seemingly hopeless, life history to this. I don’t think it’s a brain fart! I think it just needs to be expanded. For instance, even though you only mentioned this man’s brother once, you it seems to be what his suffering is encompassing. Maybe give a little bit of a backstory on his brother?
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Improv-ing -- Week 9
I'm going to improv Green pants by Sttephen Grahm Jones:
We met sometime in October a few years back at a mutual friends apartment over some under-aged drinks and great conversation and we met for coffee a week later.
I scared you, and you left quickly.
You bought some pot.
Numb so your feelings.
Those butterflies in your stomach floated away with the cloud of marijuana smoke.
You called me a few days later because the smell of curiosity doesn’t leave your close as fast as the smell of ganja.
We had coffee, shared laughs, and had great conversation for two weeks straight then we were official for a year then the butterflies came back like locusts because you meant everything you said and didn’t mean to.
You bought some pot.
Numbed your feelings.
The smoke and the butterflies left out the window.
This time the fabric was cleaned of the fumes and replaced with a new girl that wears cheap perfume and makes you numb without the pot.
We met sometime in October a few years back at a mutual friends apartment over some under-aged drinks and great conversation and we met for coffee a week later.
I scared you, and you left quickly.
You bought some pot.
Numb so your feelings.
Those butterflies in your stomach floated away with the cloud of marijuana smoke.
You called me a few days later because the smell of curiosity doesn’t leave your close as fast as the smell of ganja.
We had coffee, shared laughs, and had great conversation for two weeks straight then we were official for a year then the butterflies came back like locusts because you meant everything you said and didn’t mean to.
You bought some pot.
Numbed your feelings.
The smoke and the butterflies left out the window.
This time the fabric was cleaned of the fumes and replaced with a new girl that wears cheap perfume and makes you numb without the pot.
Sign inventory -- week 9
Green Pants by Stephen Grahm Jones
I noticed that in this poem Jones used block poetry in most of his poem. The first 'stanza' or 'paragraph' is just one big sentence describing a sequence of events squished together. It's a reflection of how quick that event happened. I think it's intersting how he depected the daze of events in one sentence/block, and the rest of them poem slows down and uses more puncuation once they get to the hospital.
I noticed that in this poem Jones used block poetry in most of his poem. The first 'stanza' or 'paragraph' is just one big sentence describing a sequence of events squished together. It's a reflection of how quick that event happened. I think it's intersting how he depected the daze of events in one sentence/block, and the rest of them poem slows down and uses more puncuation once they get to the hospital.
Calisthenics -- Week 9
i finally found a way to work in the suggestion that Davidson and Ericka made about finding a way to work crocheting terminology into a poem. :]
Choose your color and begin with a slipknot.
Chain three.
Yarn over.
Draw loop through three.
It starts at the crown of your head
For a child, that is the fontanel.
Still open and ready to absorb the myths of heroes
Preserved in the pith that lay between unsoiled ears.
Never lose your child-like innocence.
That’s why new borns are given crocheted hats.
Hats made with love by hand.
Series of knots placed snug
over a child’s head ready to capture innocence.
Later placed in the wooden chest
at the foot of their bed and locked away like treasure.
There are dreams embedded in each half double crochet and chain
Locking each crumbled dream away
like crumbs of Gerber crackers stuck in the cracks of the high chair.
But those are scrubbed away.
Choose your color and begin with a slipknot.
Chain three.
Yarn over.
Draw loop through three.
It starts at the crown of your head
For a child, that is the fontanel.
Still open and ready to absorb the myths of heroes
Preserved in the pith that lay between unsoiled ears.
Never lose your child-like innocence.
That’s why new borns are given crocheted hats.
Hats made with love by hand.
Series of knots placed snug
over a child’s head ready to capture innocence.
Later placed in the wooden chest
at the foot of their bed and locked away like treasure.
There are dreams embedded in each half double crochet and chain
Locking each crumbled dream away
like crumbs of Gerber crackers stuck in the cracks of the high chair.
But those are scrubbed away.
free entry 2 -- week 9
My dreads started as babies.
Softly coiled by palm rolling.
Row crops nested on my crown.
Wash them often.
Keep the roots in check with rubber bands.
Tied neatly with a bandana at night so they’re easy
to deal with in the morning.
The teenage stage comes five months later.
Rubber bands are cut. They’re wild fuzzy.
They do what they want.
Too small to tie into a pony tail, too wild
and haphazard to keep down.
They’re fuzzy, and the roots didn’t stay kept,
so they were latch hooked.
Chain three.
Double crochet.
Fourteen months pass and they’re now mature.
Follicles grow like weeds pushing threads
of protein that weave and felted.
The rope that shapes my face.
Four years of stories lie in the pith of all ninety-three.
Softly coiled by palm rolling.
Row crops nested on my crown.
Wash them often.
Keep the roots in check with rubber bands.
Tied neatly with a bandana at night so they’re easy
to deal with in the morning.
The teenage stage comes five months later.
Rubber bands are cut. They’re wild fuzzy.
They do what they want.
Too small to tie into a pony tail, too wild
and haphazard to keep down.
They’re fuzzy, and the roots didn’t stay kept,
so they were latch hooked.
Chain three.
Double crochet.
Fourteen months pass and they’re now mature.
Follicles grow like weeds pushing threads
of protein that weave and felted.
The rope that shapes my face.
Four years of stories lie in the pith of all ninety-three.
junkyard -- week 9
"... because he likes broads with thick brains"
-- A line form a song by Common that i modified.
"On monday mornings i pass by the church as the sound of their bells stretch and widen like elastic chasing my car and winding as the distance grows between my car and the holy hall."
-- random line i came up with. i pass through the square in the mornigs and the church bells usually go off on my way to class. It sounds so creepy when i'm in motion away from the church and i wanted to try to describe how it sounded
"stratus clouds patched together creating a quilt that lay snug over the land. the sun blinks through the seams as the wind shakes the rain onto the earth"
--i took a few ideas from spencer's poem and tried to make them my own. Thanks Spencer!
" Going to the square at night on the weekends is like watching live discovery channel. Everyone is doing their mating dances and mating calls."
-- me
-- A line form a song by Common that i modified.
"On monday mornings i pass by the church as the sound of their bells stretch and widen like elastic chasing my car and winding as the distance grows between my car and the holy hall."
-- random line i came up with. i pass through the square in the mornigs and the church bells usually go off on my way to class. It sounds so creepy when i'm in motion away from the church and i wanted to try to describe how it sounded
"stratus clouds patched together creating a quilt that lay snug over the land. the sun blinks through the seams as the wind shakes the rain onto the earth"
--i took a few ideas from spencer's poem and tried to make them my own. Thanks Spencer!
" Going to the square at night on the weekends is like watching live discovery channel. Everyone is doing their mating dances and mating calls."
-- me
free entery week 9
Enveloped perspective that assumes the position
of power that is colored plain and white,
secured by nine oval buttons that mimic pearls
that carefully hide you from women with thick
brains.
and the potential energy stored in bodily systems that happen
above the neck
to be something that hovers above.
Collar, detachable and black ties are cobra coiled around your neck
tightened by inflation turning your face green
while your head balloons in control
while words are whoopi-cusioned out of your mouth
splattered onto eggshell white walls.
A fertile place for secrets.
But when you were young all you wanted was to change the world and painted pictures of circles with green, blue and brown swirls.
of power that is colored plain and white,
secured by nine oval buttons that mimic pearls
that carefully hide you from women with thick
brains.
and the potential energy stored in bodily systems that happen
above the neck
to be something that hovers above.
Collar, detachable and black ties are cobra coiled around your neck
tightened by inflation turning your face green
while your head balloons in control
while words are whoopi-cusioned out of your mouth
splattered onto eggshell white walls.
A fertile place for secrets.
But when you were young all you wanted was to change the world and painted pictures of circles with green, blue and brown swirls.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Improv-ing -- Week 8
I'm going to try to improv Beginnings by James Wright
Coddled by the heat rising my shirt.
Yellow skin teased by the heat rising from
cindered sand.
I watch
Juice dripping from baskets of shriveled fruit
Cowering from sleeves of the sun’s limbs.
The old man sitting an old wine barrel
pokes the strings of his Lute
Forged from petrified wood
Held together and gristly goat hair and torrid cattle skin.
Destitute fingers longing to be coin quenched.
Coddled by the heat rising my shirt.
Yellow skin teased by the heat rising from
cindered sand.
I watch
Juice dripping from baskets of shriveled fruit
Cowering from sleeves of the sun’s limbs.
The old man sitting an old wine barrel
pokes the strings of his Lute
Forged from petrified wood
Held together and gristly goat hair and torrid cattle skin.
Destitute fingers longing to be coin quenched.
Sign inventory -- week 8
BEGINNING
James Wright
The moon drops one or two feathers into the field
the dark weat listens.
Be still.
Now.
There they are, the moon's young, trying
Their wings.
Between trees, a slender woman lifts up the lovely shadow
Of her face, and now she steps into the air, now she is gone
Wholly, into the air.
I stand alone by an elder tree, i dont dare breathe
Or move.
I listen.
The Wheat leans back toward its own darkness
And I lean toward mine.
I think the way the poem is written depicts what is going on in the poem. the words, and the length of the sentence are quiet, and still. The words that are used, feathers and slender, are really delicate, kind of like new beginnigs.
James Wright
The moon drops one or two feathers into the field
the dark weat listens.
Be still.
Now.
There they are, the moon's young, trying
Their wings.
Between trees, a slender woman lifts up the lovely shadow
Of her face, and now she steps into the air, now she is gone
Wholly, into the air.
I stand alone by an elder tree, i dont dare breathe
Or move.
I listen.
The Wheat leans back toward its own darkness
And I lean toward mine.
I think the way the poem is written depicts what is going on in the poem. the words, and the length of the sentence are quiet, and still. The words that are used, feathers and slender, are really delicate, kind of like new beginnigs.
Calisthenics -- Week 8
I just compiled some more vocabulary this week.
The theme is Imhotep
-he was an egyptian polyman. He was an expert in a number of different subjects ( architect, medicine, preist, and he was a 'government official'
-First recognized architect
-Served under the pharaoh, Djoser
-Designed the first great pyramid
-He was one of few mortals to be depicted as a part of the pharaoh's status. There was a legend of famine for seven years, and he as thought to have a part in the flood of the Nile
- He was the first person to make medicine into an official disapline
- first known to use columns in archetecutre
First person to use stone dressed buidlings
-used lintels (horizontal structural member, such as a beam or a stone, that spans an opening such as windows or doors or between two columns)
The theme is Imhotep
-he was an egyptian polyman. He was an expert in a number of different subjects ( architect, medicine, preist, and he was a 'government official'
-First recognized architect
-Served under the pharaoh, Djoser
-Designed the first great pyramid
-He was one of few mortals to be depicted as a part of the pharaoh's status. There was a legend of famine for seven years, and he as thought to have a part in the flood of the Nile
- He was the first person to make medicine into an official disapline
- first known to use columns in archetecutre
First person to use stone dressed buidlings
-used lintels (horizontal structural member, such as a beam or a stone, that spans an opening such as windows or doors or between two columns)
Junkyard -- Week 8
"he evaporated under the twisted tentacles of the sun"
-- i tweaked a line from Kyley's poem
"Gawking at the old man whose feet are khaki with sand cinder.
Hands longing to be coin quenched.
His destitute fingers poke the strings of his Lute made from petrified
wood, torrid cattle skin and gristly goat gair."
-- a line i really liked form a poem i'm working on
""between the trees, a slender woman lifts up the lovely shadow
of her face, and now she teps into the air, now she is gone
wholly, into the air."
-Beginning by James Wright (p249 in vintage)
"our neighborhood sun-cured..." (Days of 1964 by james Merill)
i thought this little snippet from this poem was interesting. I'm working with some sun imagery in my poem and it seemed to fit pretty well. two thoughts came to mind: 1) the neighborhood is being cleansed by the sun, and 2) it's being aged, kind of like sun dried tomatos.
-- i tweaked a line from Kyley's poem
"Gawking at the old man whose feet are khaki with sand cinder.
Hands longing to be coin quenched.
His destitute fingers poke the strings of his Lute made from petrified
wood, torrid cattle skin and gristly goat gair."
-- a line i really liked form a poem i'm working on
""between the trees, a slender woman lifts up the lovely shadow
of her face, and now she teps into the air, now she is gone
wholly, into the air."
-Beginning by James Wright (p249 in vintage)
"our neighborhood sun-cured..." (Days of 1964 by james Merill)
i thought this little snippet from this poem was interesting. I'm working with some sun imagery in my poem and it seemed to fit pretty well. two thoughts came to mind: 1) the neighborhood is being cleansed by the sun, and 2) it's being aged, kind of like sun dried tomatos.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
free entery week 8
Fifty-seven and stuck at fourteen.
Born a poor street child in Memphis, Egypt.
Now Ruler of the Field of the Fare
Pharaoh of Lakeview.
Yellow skin and bald head covered in green head dress.
Washington decorated. Royal carpets lay before him made of checks forged
with the names of those
buried in pieces behind the Third Dynasty.
Checks held together by safety pins.
Holes poked in the bare toes of the children born
from wandering wombs and a broken heart.
Snagged in their tracks leaving the carpet Hollywood
red for the children to scrub away with bare hands.
Imhotep.
The man called papa, whose DNA is colored different from the miniature
people who scrub his feet.
Keep the growing yellow bald spot on your head coved
with head dressings of Benjamin
That hide the past. Soon revealed and escape.
Born a poor street child in Memphis, Egypt.
Now Ruler of the Field of the Fare
Pharaoh of Lakeview.
Yellow skin and bald head covered in green head dress.
Washington decorated. Royal carpets lay before him made of checks forged
with the names of those
buried in pieces behind the Third Dynasty.
Checks held together by safety pins.
Holes poked in the bare toes of the children born
from wandering wombs and a broken heart.
Snagged in their tracks leaving the carpet Hollywood
red for the children to scrub away with bare hands.
Imhotep.
The man called papa, whose DNA is colored different from the miniature
people who scrub his feet.
Keep the growing yellow bald spot on your head coved
with head dressings of Benjamin
That hide the past. Soon revealed and escape.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Calisthenics -- Week 7
I really liked Erika Meitner's idea of researching a topic you know nothing about to compile new vocabulary and information about the topic. SO i wanted to do that again. I went to Alex Grey's Lecture at the University of West Georgia last night and he spoke about a painting he did that i thought was really interesting. It was about the metemorphesis of a caterpillar to butterfly. The backbone of a lot of his work also has a lot to do with 'sacred geometry'. The way he explained it was interesting, but i didnt know anything about that process before his lecture. SO, i did some research.
Molting: Shedding skin
instar: the intervals inbetween molting. (there are 5 instars)
Imaginal discs -- the layers of skin that the caterpiller has. After each molt, the new skin is thicker and tougher.
Pupa / Chrysalis -- cacoon stage
Crochets -- groups of hooks on the caterpillar's prolegs
Exuvia -- name of the molted cuticle.
Diurnal—active during the day (enlightenment symbolism)
Puddling—Butterflies gather, or puddle, at damp spots.
Molting: Shedding skin
instar: the intervals inbetween molting. (there are 5 instars)
Imaginal discs -- the layers of skin that the caterpiller has. After each molt, the new skin is thicker and tougher.
Pupa / Chrysalis -- cacoon stage
Crochets -- groups of hooks on the caterpillar's prolegs
Exuvia -- name of the molted cuticle.
Diurnal—active during the day (enlightenment symbolism)
Puddling—Butterflies gather, or puddle, at damp spots.
Free Entry -- Week 7
Circle the Square. Now you have the Sun
around the Earth. Residents in our own
fingerprints, we wander through the mazes
forever stamped on digits. Dip them, all ten,
in ink. Stamp another’s cranium;
Hyphenated humans.
The Journey is from one single point to another.
Follow the dots. One. Two. Three
paths now become apparent, moving equidistant from the other two.
Differentiating strange hallways and enigmatic chambers
The first instar is very small. It’s only job is to feed.
Eat the eggshells first.
The second instar’s head capsule has already separated from the body.
It’s second layer grows the larger,
Tougher, layer of skin that protrudes from beneath the old.
Molting.
This is done three times.
Chrysalis contain imaginal discs that shift within the cocoon
trying to find where they fit,
Like a jigsaw puzzle while the chemicals
of the metamorphosis stage initiate
Disintegration.
around the Earth. Residents in our own
fingerprints, we wander through the mazes
forever stamped on digits. Dip them, all ten,
in ink. Stamp another’s cranium;
Hyphenated humans.
The Journey is from one single point to another.
Follow the dots. One. Two. Three
paths now become apparent, moving equidistant from the other two.
Differentiating strange hallways and enigmatic chambers
The first instar is very small. It’s only job is to feed.
Eat the eggshells first.
The second instar’s head capsule has already separated from the body.
It’s second layer grows the larger,
Tougher, layer of skin that protrudes from beneath the old.
Molting.
This is done three times.
Chrysalis contain imaginal discs that shift within the cocoon
trying to find where they fit,
Like a jigsaw puzzle while the chemicals
of the metamorphosis stage initiate
Disintegration.
Junkyard -- week 7
"All beings and things are residents in your awareness"
-Alex Grey
"In a society that tries to standardize thinking, individuality is not highly prized. "
--Alex Grey
"Residents in our own fingerprints. Wandering in mazes"
-me
"imaginal discs are the thickened areas within the sac of the body wall in holometabolous insects which give rise to specific organs in the adult."
"When the caterpillar begins its remarkable process of metamorphosis, wrapped inside its chrysalis, fantastic chemical changes begin that activate the imaginal discs and initiate the disintegration of the caterpillar. The imaginal discs begin to move around, seeking each other, for the butterfly can only happen if the imaginal discs are joined as one. It is perhaps important to repeat, given our mechanical habit of mind, that it is not parts of the butterfly that are linking up, but many wholes."
-- I found this quote on a page i googled about the metamorphosis of the butterfly. I cant remember the site.
-Alex Grey
"In a society that tries to standardize thinking, individuality is not highly prized. "
--Alex Grey
"Residents in our own fingerprints. Wandering in mazes"
-me
"imaginal discs are the thickened areas within the sac of the body wall in holometabolous insects which give rise to specific organs in the adult."
"When the caterpillar begins its remarkable process of metamorphosis, wrapped inside its chrysalis, fantastic chemical changes begin that activate the imaginal discs and initiate the disintegration of the caterpillar. The imaginal discs begin to move around, seeking each other, for the butterfly can only happen if the imaginal discs are joined as one. It is perhaps important to repeat, given our mechanical habit of mind, that it is not parts of the butterfly that are linking up, but many wholes."
-- I found this quote on a page i googled about the metamorphosis of the butterfly. I cant remember the site.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
free entry -- week 6
Red is for the open wounds on the child's bare feet.
Dusty and unkempt toes.
Grounded and rooted in nothing.
there is nothing and they laugh about nothing and are happy just because.
With each step taken as they romp, yellow laughter bursts from their mouths. Yellow is for personal power deep rooted in the soular plexus.
Crowded markets full of women washed with Saris colored with Indian heat.
Red, Orange, and Yellow. Grounded Creators, and Powerful
Granddaddy Roosevelt harvests a field full Heirlooms
Red like Georgia clay, and ripe like Mid-August heat.
He would take bites out of their warm flesh and say
You know they say that if you eat tomatoes, you’ll have happiness in your home.
We ate a lot of tomatoes.
junkyard -- week 6
1) Great-grandfather Roosevelt, half-Indian, half my own father,
with a dog named Blue—a sharpe’ with an old brown collar—
you and I built this back porch and garden, Big boys and Heirlooms
the size of fists, habaneros and jalapenos you’d eat by the handful.
(In the summer your nose would sweat.) Holly baby, you’d say,
when I cried, or when my sister and brother wouldn’t let me
hold their hamster Peanut. Holly baby, you’d say, when I held
him too tight in my fists, let him go. I have had to let you go,
Roosevelt, so much so this could as easily be India, all
women’s rights and cardamom and coriander,
the crowded markets full of saris made of silks—
yellow, hot pink, orange, the colors of the desert, of heat,
of barefoot children and the joy of nothingness.
While in the distance, I half hope to find you
behind a rickshaw selling coconut water. Roosevelt,
here in Georgia, during sunset, I sit outside
and watch the chimney swifts circle the house
making their chirp chirp sound. The sun moves effortlessly
through the crowds of pines and pecan, the community
garden now turned, muscadine vines all but spent.
Fall gardening is soon. Gourds and hops, and the bright
globes of the eggplant. And I wouldn’t call them blue,
because they’re not. But somehow the name comes to me,
as the swifts descend and in the distance a hound barks.
-- Class effort
2) Red is for the open wounds on the child's bare, dusty feet and unkempt toes.
-me
3) Women washed with Saris colord with Indian heat.
Red, Orange, and Yellow.
Grounded Creaters, and Powerful
4)Grounded and rooted in nothing. Because there is nothing and they laugh about nothing and they are happy just because. With each step taken as they romp, yellow laughter bursts from their mouths. Yellow is for personal power deep rooted in the soular plexus.
with a dog named Blue—a sharpe’ with an old brown collar—
you and I built this back porch and garden, Big boys and Heirlooms
the size of fists, habaneros and jalapenos you’d eat by the handful.
(In the summer your nose would sweat.) Holly baby, you’d say,
when I cried, or when my sister and brother wouldn’t let me
hold their hamster Peanut. Holly baby, you’d say, when I held
him too tight in my fists, let him go. I have had to let you go,
Roosevelt, so much so this could as easily be India, all
women’s rights and cardamom and coriander,
the crowded markets full of saris made of silks—
yellow, hot pink, orange, the colors of the desert, of heat,
of barefoot children and the joy of nothingness.
While in the distance, I half hope to find you
behind a rickshaw selling coconut water. Roosevelt,
here in Georgia, during sunset, I sit outside
and watch the chimney swifts circle the house
making their chirp chirp sound. The sun moves effortlessly
through the crowds of pines and pecan, the community
garden now turned, muscadine vines all but spent.
Fall gardening is soon. Gourds and hops, and the bright
globes of the eggplant. And I wouldn’t call them blue,
because they’re not. But somehow the name comes to me,
as the swifts descend and in the distance a hound barks.
-- Class effort
2) Red is for the open wounds on the child's bare, dusty feet and unkempt toes.
-me
3) Women washed with Saris colord with Indian heat.
Red, Orange, and Yellow.
Grounded Creaters, and Powerful
4)Grounded and rooted in nothing. Because there is nothing and they laugh about nothing and they are happy just because. With each step taken as they romp, yellow laughter bursts from their mouths. Yellow is for personal power deep rooted in the soular plexus.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Sign inventory -- week 5
The Artist as Lefthander
Stephen Dunn
i noticed that the first line of hte poem is long compared to the others. He talks about sleep, maybe the form of the sentence is refecting his perception of time as a 'dreamer'/ artist?
Following the second sentence, the rest of the stanza is composed of short, choppy sentences. All of these short sentences seem to be mundane, plane things that he doesn't find imporant. i believe that the formation of these sentences, short and choppy, are also a reflection and expression of the mundane characteristics of the thigns he describes.
Stephen Dunn
i noticed that the first line of hte poem is long compared to the others. He talks about sleep, maybe the form of the sentence is refecting his perception of time as a 'dreamer'/ artist?
Following the second sentence, the rest of the stanza is composed of short, choppy sentences. All of these short sentences seem to be mundane, plane things that he doesn't find imporant. i believe that the formation of these sentences, short and choppy, are also a reflection and expression of the mundane characteristics of the thigns he describes.
Calisthenics -- Week 5
Another Erika Meitner Exercise: Finding new vocabulary about a topic you know nothing about
wine tasting vocabulary
wine tasting vocabulary
Aroma or bouquet: The smell of a wine. Bouquet applies particularly to the aroma of older wines.
Body: The apparent weight of a wine in your mouth (light, medium, or full)
Crisp: A wine with refreshing acidity
Dry: Not sweet
Finish: The impression a wine leaves as you swallow it
Flavor intensity: How strong or weak a wine’s flavors are
Fruity: A wine whose aromas and flavors suggest fruit; does not imply sweetness
Oaky: A wine that has oak flavors (smoky, toasty)
Soft: A wine has a smooth rather than crisp mouthfeel
Tannic: A red wine that is firm and leaves the mouth feeling dry
junkyard -- week 5
All of these are coming from free writes that i've done in my paperback journal.
1) Not a sound byt my shoes
asking themselves over and over
where have you been?
where are you going?
slipknot
chain two
shoes laces knoted and footsteps toungtied
old coverses weathered and written.
Reminders of where we've been and a fuzzy reflectino of where we're going.
Its all a reflection
right, wrong. left right.
but regardless, it's all nsynch
2) At the Lab, Eve picks muschedines.
She sucks the goop from the middle
of the fruit for morning snacks and leaves
the skin on the concret to be walked upon
by freshly woken barefeet.
At the Lab Jesus wears a soiled face and thick glasses
he spits falloc insinuations
and curses you for ruining the, Lab.
It's been saged, but there are still hints of sex that linger
in the air. Cramed int he cracks of the warped front door.
3) At the Lab, Mary dances with wiled hair
and an Ameican flag foled three times
and tied around here head
Third Eye covered, and eyes closed.
Soiled hands flailing in the air soiled with Mother's residue.
4) Pride is a new sweater made from old couch tapestires.
Couch skeletons made play stages for latenight imporv shows.
The spot light is on the ones who stumble on stage
and stutter on the megaphone.
1) Not a sound byt my shoes
asking themselves over and over
where have you been?
where are you going?
slipknot
chain two
shoes laces knoted and footsteps toungtied
old coverses weathered and written.
Reminders of where we've been and a fuzzy reflectino of where we're going.
Its all a reflection
right, wrong. left right.
but regardless, it's all nsynch
2) At the Lab, Eve picks muschedines.
She sucks the goop from the middle
of the fruit for morning snacks and leaves
the skin on the concret to be walked upon
by freshly woken barefeet.
At the Lab Jesus wears a soiled face and thick glasses
he spits falloc insinuations
and curses you for ruining the, Lab.
It's been saged, but there are still hints of sex that linger
in the air. Cramed int he cracks of the warped front door.
3) At the Lab, Mary dances with wiled hair
and an Ameican flag foled three times
and tied around here head
Third Eye covered, and eyes closed.
Soiled hands flailing in the air soiled with Mother's residue.
4) Pride is a new sweater made from old couch tapestires.
Couch skeletons made play stages for latenight imporv shows.
The spot light is on the ones who stumble on stage
and stutter on the megaphone.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Free Entry -- Week 5
White paper bags steamed stiff for suffercating.
Collections of the same black cobra hung neatly in you walk-in
waiting to be knotted around your neck parallel
to backbone
squeezing everything closed because the information you choose to swallow goes down
like sand, heating in your throat. React to discomfort
pull the cobra tighter around your neck
because sand heats under pressure turing to glass.
Transparent.
Spit up the shards of glass decorating those around you. Sparkling with truth for the devil to see. He's been waiting to feast.
Collections of the same black cobra hung neatly in you walk-in
waiting to be knotted around your neck parallel
to backbone
squeezing everything closed because the information you choose to swallow goes down
like sand, heating in your throat. React to discomfort
pull the cobra tighter around your neck
because sand heats under pressure turing to glass.
Transparent.
Spit up the shards of glass decorating those around you. Sparkling with truth for the devil to see. He's been waiting to feast.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Improv-ing -- Week 4
Helen of Troy Does Countertop Dancing
I actually really enjoyed this poem. It's an interesting perspective. I never thought that anyone could convince me that countertop dancing could be justified or empowering. It's a new way of looking at freedom. She almost makes it a holy thing. " like preachers, i sell a vision". She also calls out the people who look down upon her. Her response to the women who tell her that she is trashy and needs to gain self respect was pretty awesome. From the poet's perspective, the people who follow the popular idea of self respect are the ones selling themselves out and living boring flat lives. Very interesting perspective. Atwood dehumanizes the women who attempt to dehumanize her, but her argument seems to have a little bit more backbone behind it and it's not a robotic expression of disagreement.
I actually really enjoyed this poem. It's an interesting perspective. I never thought that anyone could convince me that countertop dancing could be justified or empowering. It's a new way of looking at freedom. She almost makes it a holy thing. " like preachers, i sell a vision". She also calls out the people who look down upon her. Her response to the women who tell her that she is trashy and needs to gain self respect was pretty awesome. From the poet's perspective, the people who follow the popular idea of self respect are the ones selling themselves out and living boring flat lives. Very interesting perspective. Atwood dehumanizes the women who attempt to dehumanize her, but her argument seems to have a little bit more backbone behind it and it's not a robotic expression of disagreement.
free entry week 4
the door oof the donjon is old
weathered and warped, and there is a drop six feet below sea level when open.
Be careful.
Inside there is a flat screen TV, HD, or disney movie nights. Movies are always in black and white and
Covered in snow.
Hazy.
Snow white lectures about my Knight in shining armor.
He's coming to save you, she says.
But i stare blank at the TV
lost in my own wonderland scheming of ways to escape Pandora's Box
I could shrink down to the size of a pin needle and ride my matress down to the bottom and land in the ocean with the fish. I could chop my locs off and shine my head clean. I'll make my own rope
Slipknot.
Chain thirteen.
Yarn over, and half-double crochet in third chain from hook
repeat. and that makes twelve
weathered and warped, and there is a drop six feet below sea level when open.
Be careful.
Inside there is a flat screen TV, HD, or disney movie nights. Movies are always in black and white and
Covered in snow.
Hazy.
Snow white lectures about my Knight in shining armor.
He's coming to save you, she says.
But i stare blank at the TV
lost in my own wonderland scheming of ways to escape Pandora's Box
I could shrink down to the size of a pin needle and ride my matress down to the bottom and land in the ocean with the fish. I could chop my locs off and shine my head clean. I'll make my own rope
Slipknot.
Chain thirteen.
Yarn over, and half-double crochet in third chain from hook
repeat. and that makes twelve
Junkyard -- week 4
" i don't have a friend who feels at ease"
-- An American Tune Paul Simon (referenced in an essay written by my Art and Therapy professor Larry Schor)
" ... for me it is still living and dying and shaped and shaping every day." Larry Schor on his experience at ground zero in 2001
"There's an unceasing wind that blows through this night
There's dust in my eyes that blinds my sight
There's a silence that speaks so much louder than words
Of promises broken"
-- Pink Floyd
"Every nerve in my body is so vacant and numb
i can't even remember what it was
I came here to ge away from
Don't even hear a murmur of prayer
It's not dark yet, but it's getting there".
--Bob Dylan
All of these quotes came from the essay that my professor, Dr. Larry Schor wrote about his experience during and after his time at ground zero in 2001 entitled What help have I to Give? A therapist's journey to Ground Zero. It's stuck with me and i'm still trying to find a way to use his experiences to write a poem because he paints such an elaborate picture of his experience and his observations of others. I was thinking that i could use the terminology from the carpentry that i found as well as some of the terminology that i know form crocheting to write something about 9/11.
-- An American Tune Paul Simon (referenced in an essay written by my Art and Therapy professor Larry Schor)
" ... for me it is still living and dying and shaped and shaping every day." Larry Schor on his experience at ground zero in 2001
"There's an unceasing wind that blows through this night
There's dust in my eyes that blinds my sight
There's a silence that speaks so much louder than words
Of promises broken"
-- Pink Floyd
"Every nerve in my body is so vacant and numb
i can't even remember what it was
I came here to ge away from
Don't even hear a murmur of prayer
It's not dark yet, but it's getting there".
--Bob Dylan
All of these quotes came from the essay that my professor, Dr. Larry Schor wrote about his experience during and after his time at ground zero in 2001 entitled What help have I to Give? A therapist's journey to Ground Zero. It's stuck with me and i'm still trying to find a way to use his experiences to write a poem because he paints such an elaborate picture of his experience and his observations of others. I was thinking that i could use the terminology from the carpentry that i found as well as some of the terminology that i know form crocheting to write something about 9/11.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Improv-ing -- week 3
Going Down.
We talked about Quisiera Declarar this week in class. I noticed that it's thirteen senentence poem broken up into lines that take up three pages of the book. On the other hand, Going Down in made up of eleven lines and takes up a little more than half the page. The poem is a little more choppy. I noticed that the senetences towards the beginning of the chapter are a lot shorter (especially the first three lines). As the poem moves down the page the sentences get longer, but they're still broken up with commas.
We talked about Quisiera Declarar this week in class. I noticed that it's thirteen senentence poem broken up into lines that take up three pages of the book. On the other hand, Going Down in made up of eleven lines and takes up a little more than half the page. The poem is a little more choppy. I noticed that the senetences towards the beginning of the chapter are a lot shorter (especially the first three lines). As the poem moves down the page the sentences get longer, but they're still broken up with commas.
calisthenics -- Week 3
One of Erika's suggestions during class was to choose a topic that you konw nothing about, do some research and find new, interesting vocabulary to use for poetry.
I chose carpentry.
Two basic types of tools: Hand-guided and Power Based
hand guided tools: chisels, hand saws, framing hammer
Power based tools: circularr saws, electric drills and framing nailers
These tools are used to shape sheet and blocks of wood to correct dimensions for the structure you are ceating.
The function is to cut, thin width and create holes and crooves in the structure.
Some historical tools: The Auger – hand tool with threaded shank and cross handle used for oring holes in wood or ice; a drill bit. The were used for making wagon wheels and musical instruments
Spokeshaves and drawknives were used to shape wooded bowls and wooden chair seats.
Saftey precautions: make sure blades are sharp and guards are in place. Wear saftey glasses and make sure chords are out of the way.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Junkyard -- Week 3
1) White paper bags steamed stiff for suffercating.
2) Collections of the same black cobra hung neatly in your walk-in waiting to be knotted around your neck parallel to your backbone ready to attack.
3) Like a bagworm that's lost its bag
I made an attept to find my host
as soon as i arrived
to guess at the construction of body politics.
The elementary strucutre of the symbolic process.
Focusing as if by a will of its own. It's a process.
The so-called internal
makes a request for the dream oracle.
We've got something for you to sit in Lady Oracle.
4) The Bag Lady lost Chanel and made an attempt to find another host.
Walking hard like she's hacking away the concrete with her
red peg leg shoes and roach killing toes;
The construction of body politics
2) Collections of the same black cobra hung neatly in your walk-in waiting to be knotted around your neck parallel to your backbone ready to attack.
3) Like a bagworm that's lost its bag
I made an attept to find my host
as soon as i arrived
to guess at the construction of body politics.
The elementary strucutre of the symbolic process.
Focusing as if by a will of its own. It's a process.
The so-called internal
makes a request for the dream oracle.
We've got something for you to sit in Lady Oracle.
4) The Bag Lady lost Chanel and made an attempt to find another host.
Walking hard like she's hacking away the concrete with her
red peg leg shoes and roach killing toes;
The construction of body politics
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Calisthenics -- Week 2
Class room exercise: Sonnet
There are those who say that the sky is bluer on the other side. There are those who say that we all have our own unique, DNA. But i know that the pebbles drown in the grass and never see the muck and the mire and not the baby blue sky.
There are those who say that the sky is bluer on the other side. There are those who say that we all have our own unique, DNA. But i know that the pebbles drown in the grass and never see the muck and the mire and not the baby blue sky.
Improv-ing -- Week 2
The Lesson
Maya Angelou
I keep on dying again.
Veins collapse, opening like the
Small fists of sleeping
Children.
Memory of old tombs,
rotting flesh and worms do
not convince me against the challenge. The years
And cold defeat live deep in
Lines across my face.
They dull my eyes, yet i keep on dying
Because i love to live.
----------
Snapshots woven deep in
the matted coils that reside on my crown.
All 98 of them.
Chest stinging with the anxiety
I am only human
commonly overlooked like the
Right Answer.
Shave my head and shine it clean
Crocheting courage from the dreaded
coils that fall to the ground.
Recycle, reuse
It'll grow anew.
Maya Angelou
I keep on dying again.
Veins collapse, opening like the
Small fists of sleeping
Children.
Memory of old tombs,
rotting flesh and worms do
not convince me against the challenge. The years
And cold defeat live deep in
Lines across my face.
They dull my eyes, yet i keep on dying
Because i love to live.
----------
Snapshots woven deep in
the matted coils that reside on my crown.
All 98 of them.
Chest stinging with the anxiety
I am only human
commonly overlooked like the
Right Answer.
Shave my head and shine it clean
Crocheting courage from the dreaded
coils that fall to the ground.
Recycle, reuse
It'll grow anew.
Free Entry -- Week 2
Toss it over your shoulder and
lick the salt off your fingers.
Criss-cross. Good Luck.
Forced air mixed with purkulating lips.
Expression.
Lips purkulating with mixed air.
Forced Freedom.
Slosh the salt water behind your lips
Radioactive isotopes for inactive thyroids.
Open your throught.
Thought.
Magic grounds for easy consompution.
Digest.
Mixed with the magic fluid.
gargle
spit.
Speak.
lick the salt off your fingers.
Criss-cross. Good Luck.
Forced air mixed with purkulating lips.
Expression.
Lips purkulating with mixed air.
Forced Freedom.
Slosh the salt water behind your lips
Radioactive isotopes for inactive thyroids.
Open your throught.
Thought.
Magic grounds for easy consompution.
Digest.
Mixed with the magic fluid.
gargle
spit.
Speak.
Junkyard -- Week 2
"It's not hard to fall when you float like a cannonball." -- Damien Rice
" Battered Bleak of brain all drained of brillance in the dear light of the zoo." -- Howl
" Understand that the body is the foam of the wave"
"Like the dinosour he had the power witout the ability to change, strength without the capacity to learn."
"Conformity, it would seem, is being elevated into something akin to a religion."
"Existence VIP"
" Battered Bleak of brain all drained of brillance in the dear light of the zoo." -- Howl
" Understand that the body is the foam of the wave"
"Like the dinosour he had the power witout the ability to change, strength without the capacity to learn."
"Conformity, it would seem, is being elevated into something akin to a religion."
"Existence VIP"
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Calisthenics : Describe a smell
Orange:
- The lingering heat rising from the sand dunes during an Indian sunset.
- Mama's old kitchen apron
- Grandaddy's working gloves during a hot georgia summer
- A child's mouth sticky with candy stains
- The lingering heat rising from the sand dunes during an Indian sunset.
- Mama's old kitchen apron
- Grandaddy's working gloves during a hot georgia summer
- A child's mouth sticky with candy stains
Friday, August 26, 2011
Free Entry
I am at ease in my donjon. purple walls and fabric ceilings cream colored and held up with staples. the back door is old, weathered and wooden with only a latch to hold it closed at night. But i feel safe. The old weathered door is draped with purple muscidine vines, in seasona nd ready to be snacked on during leasure time. The old weathered door leads out to a courtyard with pale, gray stones that were layed with love. the courtyard is lined with dirty plastic lawn chairs that invite you to sit and watch while the sunsets over the treeline ahead. Lightning bugs light up during dusk while in motion like little shooting stars. The night birds come to fly in circles around the house. Their nightly ritual at nine. Misquetos bite me between the toes, but i'll tolerate it because the crickets whistle in their malotic rhythems. The cicadas crecendo and decrecendo. the night is breathing. Though it is dark where you during this time in space, the world is still very much alive.
-------
Creating a romance with daytime and night time. slowdancing on crooked, warped stone floors grouted by my hands. Brains smushed together, led by the motion of haphazard footwork trying to makesense of the uneven ground grouping for balance.
-------
Creating a romance with daytime and night time. slowdancing on crooked, warped stone floors grouted by my hands. Brains smushed together, led by the motion of haphazard footwork trying to makesense of the uneven ground grouping for balance.
Junkyard
"all of these studies take an embodied perspective, tha tist hey assume that action and lived experience may be grasped from the vantage point of the actor [the self, the soul] who is invariably imbodied"
-- The Body of Everyday Life
"Anger is an altered state of consiousness" --Dr. Schor (Art and Therapy class)
"Bitterness is like a cancer, it feeds on the host. Anger is like fire, it burns it all clean." -- Maya Angelou
"Don't try so hard to be profound"
-- The Body of Everyday Life
"Anger is an altered state of consiousness" --Dr. Schor (Art and Therapy class)
"Bitterness is like a cancer, it feeds on the host. Anger is like fire, it burns it all clean." -- Maya Angelou
"Don't try so hard to be profound"
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