:: Poetry ::

:: Wednesday, March 20, 2002 ::

Shit! Another damn poem about Hot Dogs.
:: Sean 3/20/2002 08:16:00 AM [+] ::
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Yeah, Paul, it was no big deal, and man the rush when I looked up at the clock last night. I was at work in the Writing Center and had just had a cancellation, so it worked perfectly; I locked myself in a room with a mac and set to work. I was reading to myself madly and tapping the ol' desk with my fingers for the count. Really fun, and yes, this is very good for us. I don't see the harm in one a week or so. And Jesus, boys, from the looks of these poems we need to get on more dates!
:: Sean 3/14/2002 08:31:00 AM [+] ::
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Mark the Memory Down

I can't get this diesel off my hands
and the autumnal smell of smoke ghosting the leaf pile
quilts me in memory of a girl
in a dress with sunlight shining through. Long afternoons

spent cracking pecans in the shadow
of that fall. She loved me, I'm sure of that. And stillness
and smoke sooth me into believing
love exists still in this county which talk of the past

infests. I stare at black and white snow
on my set between cars and see possibility
in the shifting shapes of the hissing
tube. Cars bullet past my station, smash the dull hissing

and explode down the highway. I see
them. Teens with warm beers and sweethearts turning to giggle
in their necks. Listen to my voice boys:
slow son. Mark the memory down. Slow son. Slowly go.


ps how about a heads up next time? I found out about this at 5:15. Actually little time probably helps. Nice assignment, Paul. I'd love to do one of these a week and not spend too much time workshopping them, but just say, "dang, you boys is the shit!" or something to that effect.
:: Sean 3/13/2002 06:00:00 PM [+] ::
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I'm up for the sonnet exercise if everyone else is. Who's up on the regular rotation anyway? Josh?
:: Rob 3/11/2002 01:49:00 PM [+] ::
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You mean what does "Nolan" mean? He was the coach of the Razorback Bball team and was fired for being sassy. I liked him; thus, I'm sad. Tell me what you all would think about an exercise--say, write a sonnet or something in 24 hours; then we could all see the results. I wouldn't want to do it if it wasn't fun, but I was thinking about those song-writing competitions where Hank Williams or someone would write a song in 20 minutes. I thought it might be a nice break from putting quality stuff (I should say that the song I'm thinking of was that Jambalaya song which is um . . . good http://www.guitaretab.com/gtab/t/20923) out there and would allow us some fun. We could let one of us come up with the assignment to be posted by noon on Friday and have to post our poem by noon on Saturday, or better yet, I think, 2:00 on Friday. Just pick a time when we're all there at the keyboards. Less time the better. Also, have you all heard anything about our president waving at Stevie Wonder during the White House gala? He got no response and slowly lowered his arm. A friend said he'd seen it in the Washington Post, and I thought it would brighten your days. Oh, I just published a couple of Ronsard poems at thedrunkenboat.com. They'll be out in the spring issue. My first translations to hit the presses! Any other pub news? or is that tacky?
:: Sean 3/07/2002 07:53:00 AM [+] ::
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Sorry, sorry, sorry. It's 5:21 in the AM, and I'm on my way to Bayou Meto to teach kids how to be poor and fairly high-strung. I'm very sorry that I didn't get to comment yet. I tried a couple of these once, and boy . . . I've been too upset about Nolan to write you guys, but I think I'll be better when I get back. Talk to you later. Just kidding about Nolan.
:: Sean 3/05/2002 05:22:00 AM [+] ::
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