Draft #5, Week 15

Sunday Night Dinner

The driveway is empty and cold
except for the spot covered by
the lone newspaper on the block.
A quick flip through this week's headlines
find that we are made fools of Global Warming's
effect on Icebergs. The headlines
of budget crisis' cruse and divide our
table like last week's collection call
about our Macy's dining room furniture bill.

These stories, give way to
tender moments we share as our
tiny child holds his head steady like
the Sears Tower -wait- that is just a
memory, renamed for some corporation shelling
out promises for America.

TV, radios, even Windex attempt
to clean our latest familiar transgressions of
trusting one another. These situations
force us to evaluate our communication
as archaic and unreliable like the gold standard
debate in last week's New York Times.

Draft #4

Our Hitchock Childhood

Though we're nowhere near Mount Rushmore,
little snot-nosed pre-teens,
still we imagine Cary Grant granting us
the train's commotion, the great prize
of our coming here.

For here is not the many-storied
buildings of London or even the lost
and decrepit tenements of New York.
No. Here, is my neighbor's house,
which we're tee-peeing.

Bombs of two-ply
hang limply over Spanish Moss
like sheets over a miss-sized bed.
We move around to avoid
the watchful eyes of the night birds.

Sally contemplates
the act of malice as
the Malathion of her childhood
forces her to reconsider time
spent in trivial arguments.

The marauders return
under cover of yellow street lights
as they avoid the gaze
of "mother" as they climb
back in the safety on Bates street.

Draft #3, Week 13

Sunday Night Dinner

We are made fools of lastest news
of Global Warming. Last week's newspaper cruses and divides
Our table once again with meaningless election results.
Our mouths rap with nonsense, and
hating nonsense, or sense, like last week's collection call
about our Macy’s dining room furniture bill.

Yet, tender moments we share as
Our tiny child holds his head steady
Like the Sears Tower-wait-the Sears Tower
is just a memory like Paul Harvey’s Rest of the Story.

Windex bottles of Meth attempt
to clean our latest familiar transgressions of
trusting one another. but even drugs force us
to evaluate our methods of communication
as archaic and unreliable.

Draft #2, Week 11

This is from a poem I wrote way back in like week 4. I just kept the idea of the childhood, and really expanded it.


Battle of the Bulge

Friday’s bell singles the resumption
Of World War II. First stop,
Pearl Harbor on the shores of the Coosa River
with Jimmy subbing as Admiral Hirohito.

As night fall, the kamikazes pilots
Reanimate back on Mr. Irwin’s
back porch with smells of a summer barbeque
and wafts of macadamia nut cookies.

The campaign is over for the day, so the
soldiers draft back to fortified bunk-beds
filled with goodies from last week’s “bank heist.”

Saturday’s sun transports Mark and his merry gang
To the future. Wrigleyville is a buzz as its time for
Game 7. Chants of “Lets go Cubs, Lets go Cubs”
rise softly as the players take their places in the
cul-de-sac on 7th street.

The brick and Ivy are replaced with vinyl siding and
Mrs. Johnson’s cotton topped azaleas. The crowd noise
Dampens as Tim steps to the plate. The pitch,
Low and outside, just like a replay played out with
an accompanying Sports Center highlight.

As he rounds third, a rusty man-hole cover,
bleecher bums throw stale beer on each other,
the vision fades to be replayed,same time next week,
but its John’s turn to be the hero.

The celebration is short-lived as I sit bathed
in vertical splashes of purple, green and brown
on Sunday with a man, dressed in black, keeping
the primal world contained for at least another hymn.

Draft #1, Week 10

Our Hitchock Childhood

Cary Grant points out the train's commotion,
like we are some great prize.
Little snot-nosed pre-teens devour
the many-storied buildings like a
hungry beat in autumn.

My insides shift, like my 1986
red Tercel on the Pacific Coast Highway.
Sally's mixes the pesticide of of her
childhood in circular motions.
The latest privilege lies in the fact
that Jimmy Stewart spies on our nocturnal
adventures of tee peeing my neighbors house.

Calisthenics, Week 9

No more chains or letters
That you gave me were Enough to
erase craving of nachos without cheese.
Something sweet, so delightful, gives
Us all a useful escape from yesterday’s reality.
Silly patterns that we follow
pull us through escalators filled with oranges
I'm being swallowed by the ones
that hate Tuesdays, but love Mondays.
They pull you down streets that haven’t been touched
by street sweepers.

Manipulation is the key
to quality control devices that
teach use the future, while forgetting the past
that leads us to Detriot's 8-Mile.

Junkyard Quotes 1-4, Week 9

My husband said he needed more space. So I locked him outside. -- Roseanne

Inside every older person is a younger person wondering what the hell happened. -- Unknown

Start every day off with a smile and get it over with. -- W. C. Fields

The trouble with being punctual is that nobody's there to appreciate it. -- Franklin P. Jones

Sign Inventory, Week 9

My Sad Self
Allen Ginsberg

*The poem is dedicated to Frank O'Hara, who is another beat poet at the same time.

*Interesting that the speaker goes up to the RCA building (now the GE building) to get a look at the city. It actually has better views, but most people flock to the Empire State Building.

*The fact that Ginsberg makes reference to his birth place of New Jersey where the sun is going down, while Brooklyn is bathed in light.

*The boroughs continue to play important part as they all places where he recounts love.

*He moves from the tops of the building down to street level to get a look at people.

*There is a movement from positive memories on top of the building to deeper thought of despair and loss as he walks home.

*The city changes towards the end of this draft. My once fabulous amours in the Bronx becomes "avenues stalked by tall buildings.


*It's the countryside that is painful, while the city is filled with beautiful suits.

*In terms of the structure, the first stanza is relatively close together, where in the second stanzas and later there are more disjointed lines.

*The narration of the speaker leaves towards the end of the draft. There is no reference to I in Stanzas three, four or five.

Improv, Week 9

When Collections Come

When Collections come
like the worst fear realized;
when collections come and steal dignity's crown

to pull me, and close the door on any chance of home ownership;
when collections come
like uninvited guests at the dinner table;

when collections come
like the aunt that always grabs your cheek,

I long for H.G. Wells truth and wonder
if choices made yesterday can slip past the digital age?

Therefore, I game the system
wait for hours to bleed the ones and zeros,
and become an undesirable leech
and I choose to follow Frost,

and each phone call now screams, as common as
as yesterday, but as whispers,

and each letter's neon threat, becomes
Jerry's next story about nothing.

When the FICA drops off the register, my life
will no longer be enslaved airline miles.
I was set free from percentages.

When it's over, status returns as sternness
becomes soft pillow fights.

Pedogegy Forum, Week 9

I wanted to expand on some earlier comments made during my response to Brian's blog. Education reform is a topic of debate, but everything I hear doesn't come close to solving the problem. Today, I gave the PSAT and I'm looking at variety of students taking the test. A majority of the students are trying, but I focused on the ones are not taking the test seriously. I wanted one student just stare around the class for three hours and not answer one question. What makes a student do that? I know these students are tested to death, but I tried with all my might to tell them how it would help them prepare for the SAT and the Graduation test. In the end, it was not enough because I know that student is not going to college. I've had that student before, but yet here she is wasting three hours of her time taking a test she doesn't care about and, even more scary, doesn't understand at all. Why are we forcing our students down this path towards college?

I fundamentally disagree with the one approach method to schooling. Some children just are not college material. The problem is that politicians don't get elected by saying some students don't need to go to college. There is another side of this issue as well. Not to sound like a conspiracy, but I'm sure colleges and the federal government want their loans to be taken out. I was fortunate enough to have my college paid for during my undergrad and master's programs. During this ED.S. degree, I've paid cash along the way. But what about the student who attends one year of college and takes out 30,000 in loans? I'm sure there are cases of these people succeeding and paying back loans, but what about the ones suffer through years of repayment?

It all goes towards a philosophy that all students are not equal. I hate to be the one that says it, but i truly believe that some students excel in academics and others are better at sports. So why do we force tests down our students throats all the time? This class has inspired me to try new things, but I highly doubt I'm publishing books on poetry any time soon. It has given me an appreciation and skills to improve my teaching, which is what I was looking for in the class. What skills are we giving our students? Most of them know how to fill in bubble on a standardized test, that's for sure. I'm sorry if this seems like a long rant. As educators it is important that find out what is truly important to our students and help them find ways to meet those goals. What do you guys think?

Response to a Classmate's Jounal, Week 9

This response comes from Brian's journal:

I share Zac's concern with students, and I could see how many students fall through the crack. In high school, I was unmotivated by school, but I knew that I had to work hard to get into college. I was a B+ student that turned in work, but always the bare minimum. Now, that trend has plagued me somewhat, because I run into "myself" in the students I teach. The problem is that many of them aren't even willing to do the bare minimum. I struggle with the same things of motivation, and "going to college" doesn't seem like much of a motivator. Which is surprising, since many of the students say they want to go to college? We have a new generation of students that expect everything to handed to them, and I don't blame them for some of the disturbing trends I see in education.

Free Write, Week 9

This free write is made up of things I observed while I had to give the PSAT in a math classroom. I thought it would be an interesting exercise.


Geometry Bugs

Odd numbers and symbols decorate
the geometry classroom. Sponge bob
on graph paper looks past my
inadequacies as a teacher, and as a
person. Fundamental segments of life
displayed, once forgotten as Algebra
takes hold. Spray-painted Styrofoam jumps
off the wall on unsuspecting prey.

Division amongst trusting ninjas give way
to the misery of math. The zebra-beetle
laughs and looks forward to seeing you tomorrow.

Sign Inventory, Week 8

The Man on the Hotel Room Bed

*The narration shifts from the description of the man's condition, but quickly moves into observation.

*There is a lack of light in this poem, because darkness always prevails over the night.

*Objects that are missing things such as depressions in the pillow like our subject is missing somebody.

*The idea that our subject doesn't sleep, but moves as little as possible for sleep. There could be a connection in the images he sees.

*The use of mathematics to calculate things as fear and desire.

*The fact that the man has turned away from religion in contrast with the dark and sleeplessness.

*The use of religious imagery of praying and the contrast between traditional religious beliefs.

*The fact that man has to lie along and not be abandoned. This is intriguing idea because being alone is in contrast with being abandoned.

*Another sign deals with the fact the man lies in a hotel room. He doesn't want to be abandoned, but yet goes to place that has little human connection.

*Dealing with his mom and dad and how they were different could be an area to focus on since he dad was not always ready.

Free Write, Week 8

Reality or Lack There Of

For 180 days blank memory march
upon the day. Told how to talk,
walk and even think. Pythagoras
rolls over in his grave as
2+2 is forgotten on the lips of
the next generation.

Stories told long ago, fade as the ink
is no longer powerful as 184-bits
of Modern Warfare's board in Afghan.
Now, now, now is the cry of
the restless pawns striking out for themselves.

Focused learning is taught, but
what is learned? 2+2 still equals 4,
yet this is questioned as irrelevant
dribble from people that fail understand
the greatness found in Air Jordan's.

Improv, Week 8

Goodnight, Brooks


So, you left your glove in the clubhouse.
Pink slips, you kept dodging for years,
will creep up once again in the spring barking
at every misstep.

Goodnight, Brooks.

Response to Classmate's Journal, Week 8

This comes from Jeff's journal this week:

We worked this week on writing and improvisation for skits in class. I used the technique of creative erasure that we worked on the first day of class. Each group has a skit and each member had to find something trite or repetitive and erase that and revise. That in combination with Hugo's idea of the triggering town for specifics on setting and other calisthenics, junkyrading and skiving are producing some very interesting skits this year.

My goal is to have the best two skits from each class perform at Drama Night this year. This class has been very encouraging where implementing writing into the Drama curriculum is concerned. Before taking this class I never managed to help students produce something they felt ready to share with an evening audience. Generally speaking they had given up on skit writing by this time and moved on to performing published pieces. I am certain the students are getting more out of the class this year, and certainly it is helping to improve their writing skills.

In addition to the skits, I am thinking of incorporating poetry reading with the usual dramatic monologues this year for Drama night. I hope that the majority or entirety of this work will be student produced.

In the meanwhile Drama Club is trying to find a way to showcase some of this work earlier on certain mornings while the students wait to enter the school building.

Jeff,

This is one area where your job really has some advantages over some of the other spots in a school. I think it's important to let students have an outlet for their creative ideas, and having them write and preform a skit is something that many students probably want to try their hand at sometime.

I was thinking about areas where English teachers can do the same kind of things. I think there should be some kind of partnership between the arts and academics, so some students might be able to get their work showcased in new arenas. This is something that could encourage students to participate more in creative areas, while trying out new things at the schools. Good job and keep up the work.

Junkyard Quotes 1-4, Week 8

Opera in English is, in the main, just about as sensible as baseball in Italian.

Cricket is basically baseball on valium.


I knew when my career was over. In 1965 my baseball card came out with no picture.
Bob Uecker


If I walked back into the booth in the year 2025, I don't think it would have changed much. I think baseball would be played and managed pretty much the same as it is today. It's a great survivor.
Ernie Harwell


I'm looking at a couple interesting ideas for a trigger on baseball. We'll see where it goes.

Calisthenics, Week 8

Curley's Wife Talks of Loneliness


Bindle stiffs gawk at feathers in shoes
and curves up soft sausage hair.
Only mentions to rabbit farmers
keep my day from fading
as picture dreams finish like the end of
Saturday's matinee.

Marriage's promise of love and companionship
is only as good as this week's
welter-weight challenge at the Dance Hall.

Pedagogy Forum, Week 8

Studying a novel this week, I was finding it hard to get poetry involved in my lesson plans until today. We started with a simple task of writing a defining poem in the voice of a character in the book. This worked on a few levels, because it required the students to look at the point of view of that character and see what they might think about different subjects. Today we started very basic, but we are going to work on these poems to make them stronger after they get the first idea down on paper. This also works as a review, because they have to take things from the novel to justify their choices in the poem. I know it is not exactly what we have been working on, but it is a another chance for students to be creative.

Sign Inventory, Week 7

In Response to a Rumor That the Oldest Whorehouse in Wheeling, West Virginia, Has Been Condemned
I will grieve alone,
As I strolled alone, years ago, down along
The Ohio shore.
I hid in the hobo jungle weeds
Upstream from the sewer main,
Pondering, gazing.

I saw, down river,
At Twenty-third and Water Streets
By the vinegar works,
The doors open in early evening.
Swinging their purses, the women
Poured down the long street to the river
And into the river.

I do not know how it was
They could drown every evening.
What time near dawn did they climb up the other shore,
Drying their wings?

For the river at Wheeling, West Virginia,
Has only two shores:
The one in hell, the other
In Bridgeport, Ohio.

And nobody would commit suicide, only
To find beyond death
Bridgeport, Ohio.

James Wright

*It's an interesting idea that one man would grive alone for a whorehouse as stated in line 1.

*Quickly the poem moves into a flashback to an earlier time.

*Equating sex with drowning could be further studied.

*There is a representation of duality as the "women" climb up the other shore after they leave.

*There are only reference to people that are not postive members of society, prostitues and hobos as examples.

*The fact that the two shores are hell and Bridgeport, Ohio is interesting, because neither seems that appealing.

*The use of death and hell in relation to living is striking.

*The speaker is always looking on the scene, but is never a active member of the narrative.

*Women are the only people singled out. The hobo's are hiding in the weeds, while factory workers are never really named.

*The title stands out, because the whorehouse is only closing as a rumor.

Improv, Week 7

The Mad Hatter

Blessed with talent and ablility
to crush opponents: the clock always
impeeds this ragged man. Hoards of purple
and gold surround each Saturday with
hope that time is not a factor.

Yet, each passing second the throngs
of reverlers brace for horrors unknown
and stories never to be spoken. New pawns, but
similar results lead to conclusions
that the "Hatter" is in charge.

Practice, Practice, Practice is
promised, only JJ fails to see things that
tick, tick, tick. T-Bob rescuses the result,
yet the masses weep still over
the place where, "Les Miles Happens."

Free Write, Week 7

Furniture Shopping at Macy's

Spattered ketchup dots a broken food court
like a massacre Angry consumers storm
the Chick-fil-a for free
milk shakes. Wrappers lay
destroyed as the after work crowd waltzes inside.

Young terriers pester the AARP as they walk off the
latest 2 for 1 at Applebee'. Coupon cutters pinch
bottom lines to stop shrill sounds of red numbers at home.
Awake fights sleep as tomorrow brings the
latest "best price of the season." All trying to convince
the next generation they more style this season.

Junkyard Quote 4, Week 7

"Never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake."
- Napoleon Bonaparte (1769-1821)

Junkyard Quotes 3, Week 7

"Few things are harder to put up with than a good example."
- Mark Twain (1835-1910)

Pedagogy Forum, Week 7

One of the aspects of creative writing I'm struggling with the most is the time spent in the classroom working on it. Block scheduling does have some advantages, because we have 90 minutes a class. On the other hand, we have so much material to cover in a semester along with all the standards that are on the American Literature EOCT. Right now, I'm doing it about once a week, but I'm not sure if that is enough. It's hard to balance the two things with all the other writing that we have to do. Does anybody else feel the same way? It's just something that I'm struggling with right now.

Response to Classmate's Journal, Week 7

This comes from Randie:

After helping mentor a genre poetry class with editing and finding their signs, I found that adjusting to different people and different writing styles becomes an important aspect to teaching a writing intensive course. What helped the most with working each student, I believe, was opening the dialogue with the poem they are working on to find a specific element in the poem through such dialogue. Helping the students was quite similar to how we have discussed sign inventories in class, yet at, perhaps, a different level and perspective as many of the students were new to studying and understanding poetry. The signs I discussed with the students varied as some often jumped to interpretation while others named more than one sign to work with so I was then able to focus on several ways of approaching the mentoring process.

That is an interesting take on mentoring, and something I've struggled with in the writing process. Being a journalist for many years has been a struggle as I transitioned back into graduate school. My writing style has been straight forward for years, and it's a hard habit to break. Working with writers that have different strengths can be very helpful, but it is something that very painstaking. Writers have to be willing to change their style, but it is an important step in the writing process.

Junkyard Quote 2, Week 7

"I occasionally get birthday cards from fans. But it's often the same message: They hope it's my last."

Junkyard Quotes 1, Week 7

Friendship is like peeing on yourself: everyone can see it, but only you get the warm feeling that it brings.

Calisthenics, Week 7

Hector Dreams of Ballet

After seven years of torment, dreams of a day
free of arrows dot my memory.
Vast landscapes of beaches filled
by decay and dotted with spoltches
ruin cool evenings of entertainment.

The oldest strikes examples, while
Paris embraces forbidden pleasures.
Trading one stage for Pirouettes
would allow bounderies to fall.
Perhaps Achillies would join in for a Promenade.


I really struggled with this calisthenic for some reason, but I'm going to go back and rework it a little later on. I like this idea of Achillies and Hector locked in a ballet together.

Sign Inventory, Week 6

Alzheimer's: The Wife

She answers the bothersome telephone, takes the message, forgets the message, forgets who called.
One of their daughters, her husband guesses: the one with the dogs, the babies, the boy Jed?
Yes, perhaps, but how tell which, how tell anything when all the name tags have been lost or switched,
when all the lonely flowers of sense and memory bloom and die now in adjacent bites of time?
Sometimes her own face will suddenly appear with terrifying inappropriateness before her in a mirror.
She knows that if she's patient, its gaze will break, demurely, decorously, like a well-taught child's,
it will turn from her as though it were embarrassed by the secrets of this awful hide-and-seek.
If she forgets, though, and glances back again, it will still be in there, furtively watching, crying.

*By drawing a comparison between Alzheimer's and nametags is an interesting way to view the problem.

*Continuing the metaphor by saying memory is a like a flower dying just as soon as it was born creates an interesting time structure.

*Use of the mirror to show the effects of the problem.

*There is a comparison of the demented child's game to alzheimer's.

*The idea that her mind is trapped and watching furtivily creates an interesting dynamic of how the mind works.

*In line 1, she answers the bothersome telephone. Alzheimer's drawback is lack of communcation, and seeing a device like this act has bothersome is an interesting dynamic.

*There is no clear reason why the husband thinks it is the daughters that called. Then, why is there such a problem with calling them back one by one?

*The fact that her face is "inappropriate" is odd, since she is controlling the looks.

Improv, Week 6

Reflective
A.R. Ammons


I found a
weed
that had a

mirror in it
and that
mirror

looked in at
a mirror
in

me that
had a
weed in it


Reflection

I searched for
a reflection
that showed

imperfections
in lines of prose
and

stories of
brick laced
with ivy while

white flags
reflect the
sun towards

our face and
shows us
reflections of past

Calisthenics, Week 6

Here is a calisthenic that I created with my class after we tried the EMO poetry write together. It still needs some work, but we are a lot closer.

Here is the first draft that we came up with as a class:
I hate you
You’re such a jerk
My soul weeps
The anger is talking over my body
I cut myself every night
It’s always dark and lonely
The blood rushes through my veins
I want to kill you
What happens if I die?
Will anyone care if I’m gone?
Will there be roses on my coffin?
Will my ghost still linger?
I love the way you lie.

Here is what came from it after we started to write about a mall cop:

Tasers patrol the mall for chances
to silence Hollister and Aeropostle.
Fads change with season
as feet weep across the depressing ground.

Neon signs demand gifts
from Black Friday crusaders
adrenaline wastes away in the food court
as respect and glory melt
with each "super-sale" on Maybelline.

Junkyard Quotes 2-4, Week 6

I always turn to the sports section first. The sports page records people's accomplishments; the front page has nothing but man's failures. ~Earl Warren

The difference between the old ballplayer and the new ballplayer is the jersey. The old ballplayer cared about the name on the front. The new ballplayer cares about the name on the back. ~Steve Garvey

I don't know. I never smoked AstroTurf. ~Tug McGraw, when asked if he preferred grass or artificial turf, 1974, BQ

I was looking for a few interesting ideas when it came to sports, and these were just a couple of the quotes I found that really said something a little different.

Response to Classmate's journal, Week 6

I wanted to add to Darin's blog about his teacher.

Having teachers that challenge us is something that happened to me in the 10th grade. Mrs. Edwards was my 10th Grade Honors World Literature teacher. The class was the hardest thing I took in high school, and one of the very few teams that I really earned a "B". Now, there were plenty times I received B's, but the effort was not there. In this case, I worked my tail off to get a B, and I feel like a much better student today. My had to read Dante's Inferno, The Oedipal Trilogy, Julius Caesar and my favorite novel of all time, Jane Eyre (Cue up the sarcasm). I'm lucky to get my 10th Graders to read Of Mice and Men, much less Dante's Inferno.

Education is a different animal than it was even just a few years ago. It's almost imperative that teachers find new ways to engage students, before there is no other choice other than committing felonies. Darin points out some good points, and I don't know what else to offer. it's important that educators keep on trying new things to help students find some kind of interest out of school.

Junkyard Quote 1, Week 6

My hairgel is melting with denial - Classroom collaberation this week.

Pedagogy Forum, Week 6

In the past few weeks, I've really tried to add more creative elements to my classroom writing standards. Last week was the first, and I thought the translation went pretty well. So, this week I attempted the confessions of __________. I gave them all kinds of characters and even game them examples of a poem I wrote to get them started. I wanted to show them a difference between language and I had hoped they would choose my second poem as one to model.

My first draft went like this:

Confessions of Barney

Each day stupid kids watch TV
Snot drips on
their upper lips.

Happiness is gone
A purple dinosaur could
never be happy.
I wish I wasn't famous
and nobody love me.

I felt like it was boring enough that the second draft would wow them. Yeah, not so much. Almost universally, the classes all chose my first draft instead of the second that is listed on my free write this week. Needless to say, I was shocked at this revelation. I come to find out, they said they liked the first one because it was easier to understand. It seems they didn't understand apparatus in the second draft and it lost them. This is an important lesson on language, and it is one of the main problems facing teachers. My students have terrible vocabulary skills, and they seem to be unwilling to deal with those limitations. Both poems have serious flaws, but I was also just trying to model something that I thought they could do and see relatively easy. I'm not sure what to do if students aren't willing to take responsibility for learning language, because their writing will be very limited if this trend continues.

Free Write, Week 6

So, I attempted a confession poem with my class. I'm still working on it on it some, but here it so far:

Confessions of Barney

Each day mindless drones
file in front of the box.
Liquid dripping down
caverns to find a new home
on top of the talking apparatus.

Who can smile wearing
fuchsia shaped like a
puffed pastry. Wishing
fame would slip past like
empty caskets heading to homes.

There is a lot more to story that I will cover in the pedagogy forum in a few minutes.

Response to Classmate's journal, Week 5

This comes crom Darren's blog:

I’m working with Jonette on perfecting the art of the critique. As a veteran of poetry, she’s taken many more creative writing courses than I have and has a wealth of knowledge to offer. I’m learning how to pose more constructive questions and how relate my specific comments to the work as a whole. I’ve found that I often find details that seem to help or hinder a piece, but often am unable to express how to make it better or why something works. This is a difficult process because I haven’t practiced it much in the past. As an English teacher I critique many things, but usually creativity is lower on the list of priorities. I’m beginning to realize that maybe it should be higher. Creative writing is more important than it’s often given credit because it forces writers (and readers) to perform on a higher level of thinking. In fact, it forces us to work on multiple levels of thought

I feel exactly the same way as Darren. I'm struggling with many of the same issues, but I can see how looking at a lot of different poems can help cultivate this skill. I find myself at a loss of words when I'm looking at many of these poems, because I can't imagine writing something as good as them. It's been a real struggle, but it is getting a little bit easier as we have moved along. I feel that many good things are coming from these exercises and hopefully, I will continue to progress in the coming weeks.

Junkyard Quotes 2-4. Week 5

"The booty cheese gets stuck in the blender." - student from class.

".... there you go, always giving a fuck when it ain't your turn" - The Bunk

"I aint a cards man but I think this 45 beats a full house" - Omar

Sign Inventory, Week 5

For the Anniversary of My Death
by W. S. Merwin

Every year without knowing it I have passed the day
When the last fires will wave to me
And the silence will set out
Tireless traveler
Like the beam of a lightless star


Then I will no longer
Find myself in life as in a strange garment
Surprised at the earth
And the love of one woman
And the shamelessness of men
As today writing after three days of rain
Hearing the wren sing and the falling cease
And bowing not knowing to what

*There is a difference between the first and second stanza in which the action is different. The first stanza talks "when", but the second one focuses on "then". So, there is a correlation between what will happen and when it actually happens.

*There is no use of punctuation throughout the entire poem that creates an endless feeling.

*The use of the wren bird is an odd choice, since it is considered the king of all birds.

*He mentions that the love of a one women will not be there. The use of "one" seems to have some meaning.

*The only action named was the "shamelessness of men", which is directly in contrast with the love of one women.

*"Life as in a strange garment" suggests that he is not comfortable in life, which would help tie together the shamelessness of men.

*The idea that we pass our anniversary of our death each year is an odd way to draw conclusions about life.

*The contrast between beam and lightless star is an odd combination, because a lightless star, might be considered a black hole.

*The tireless traveler has silence looking for them, could there be a correlation between life and what we have to do? Life as a constant travel is a bleak way to look at things.

*It seems as if the speaker doesn't like rain, since this poem was constructed after watching it rain for three days. Rain as a dark symbol instead as a life giver is a possible connection.

Improv/Imatation, Week 5

One's Left Behind

It’s easy to see why they fail,
with no grip support to
it is inevitable they should be left behind
first they are pushed along
with only their precious minds in question
they earn skills with seconds and lose with minutes
that are counted each year.

Darkened circles determine some fates and progress
even the red marks give no consequence.
Yet, they have no futures or
At least one that doesn’t reek of grease.

It is easy to see how they crumble,
girls and boys packed with
no instructions or 1-800 numbers to
New Delhi, India.

Placed by a number, but
with no thought of the nuts and
bolts that actually run or
the condition of the suede-covered box.

When one gets outside lines,
erasers swoop to blot out.
Seconds tick, months roll, and years
protect psyches that must stay
within range.

5,475 days into the fray
rules change, but are untranslatable
to ones that were boxed and shipped
with too many red marks on dark circles

They are shuffled frequently
with new gibberish to swallow
to only be set free with
future red numbers or
grease splattered clothes.

Junkyard quotes 1, Week 5

How you expect to run wit the wolves at night when you spend all day sparring wit the puppies - Omar Little

Free Write, Week 5

Delivery

Scalpels anticipate their pray,
while suction is prepared to whisk away remnants.
A curtain shields the weak of heart
from an unexpected bath.

Shiny toys clear a path for
new soldiers, while the old wait
for sounds of ancestors that
reach to current generations.

Breath lights a new day
and expectations are vanquished
by unexpected DNA that
pushes its way to the surface.

The future wipes away the expo maker
on the white board with ease,
while other children progress
in regular stages.

Pedagogy Forum, Week 5

I dipped my toe in the poetry water, so to speak, this week with my students actually producing poetry in class. We've spent about three days looking at modernists poets and others, and today I tried to use the latin translation. I have to say it was interesting to see what the students came up with. Some of them, of course, were unwilling to attempt this translation with any seriousness, but this didn't take away from the experience.

One thing I did differently from last night was how we talked about the poem once we wrote it down. I had 11 different students come up and write one line from their poem and it was great to see them draw connections after we finished writing everything on the board. They saw a poem take shape from non-sense. Later in the class, I had students already drafting different version of their peom, without me even prompting them to do so. I have to say I'm very encouraged at the results so far, and I'm really excited to see where this might lead me and the students.

Calisthenics, Week 5

Cowboys and Indians

Primal worlds collide with urban concrete
on Saturdays in summer.
Mothers elicit treaties from savages,
while feeding civilized beings.

Running through the forest
can be a Wednesday in Detroit, or
a backyard during Christmas

Trees becomes igloos, and
Animals rule the wild, yet are tamed on command.
Boundaries are endless, yet are confined
to the surroundings of 5257 Haden St.



This is the third version of this calisthenics, and the only thing that remains from the original version is Urban concrete and primal worlds. I'm still tinkering with this poem, but I think there are a few things that I like here. I think the next draft, I will start to play with the language to make it more interesting.

Junkyard Quote 4, Week 4

"Change is inevitable - except from a vending machine.”

Free Write, Week 4

PLC

Voices talking nonsense
unloading problems week after week.
What to make of this infernal questions?

Confined in yellow half room
where creativity dies.
Why do we spend our days with learning logs?

The same time each week
madness would be more welcome.
Why do we stay?

A chance to mold
or another chance to be told.
What would be better?

Problems surround us
like sharks after chum.
Will it ever stop?

Oversight takes hold
and expression is forbidden.
Will I remain or die?

Response to Classmate's journal, Week 4

This week's response comes from Billy's journal:

In my Sign Analyses over the past couple of weeks I've been noticing a problem. Dr. Davidson picked up on this as well. I have a tendency to move rather quickly into interpretation. I think this is really apparent in my take on Sylvia Plath, but that's I think because I've studied her extensively. On some level I think I understand why this happens. This could possibly stem from the fact that like many of us, I've been studying poetry and doing sign/poetry analyses just like this for a number of years. It's obviously an old hat in many ways and I think I may be delving into interpretation because of the fact that these exercises seem so familiar to me now. Obviously the key here is to slow down and really crawl my way through the poem, but I was considering any possible ways to make the exercise a little foreign again. I'm not saying that poetry gives up its signs and secrets easily, but I think its easy for studying poets and scholars to get a little complacent. I don't think that's the right word, but I hope this makes a shred of sense.

I tend to do the same kind of thing when I'm looking at poems. For most of our academic lives, teachers and professors have always wanted the meanings of peotry, and not taking a chance on the surface of poems. I've been trying to work on this with my classes by having them just look at poems in very small sections. Hopefully, we will be able to break down the poems better, and they will be able to actually find signs before we move into meanings now. I've found this has really helped classroom instruction with some students thave have trouble finding meanings.

Pedagogy Forum, Week 4

I wouldn't consider myself a teacher of poetry, but this week I've tried a few things that really have worked. One of the major practices that is working for my classroom is the amount of poetry I'm reading. I've always glanced at poetry, but never really anything more than the surface. I find a quick meaning and move on to the next prose story we are studying, because it was "easier" to teach. Now, I found myself wanting to teach more poetry.

It's really a fascinating thing for me professionally. I've always stayed away from it, because I either thought it was boring or it was hard to teach. Today, we looked at a few lines of Whitman's "Song of Myself". I've watched Dead Poets Society, but never really studied the poem before. I pulled out just a little to go over in class, and I was amazed by how much the students wanted to explore this poem. A discussion that I had planned for 20 minutes, lasted almost 45. I suppose that I'm more energetic about poetry now, but I never imagined this reaction. I'm looking forward to doing more of this in the coming weeks.

Improv/Imatation, Week 4

Some Last Questions

What is the head
A. Cliff Lee's WHIP* in 2008
What are the eyes
A. Places that drift by in flashes
What are the feet
A. The working mechanics
No what are the feet
A. The apparatice that allows growth and exploration
While providing a chance to play
Stumps used to beat down dreams
What is the tongue
A. An unnessarcary sliver that atracts and harms
Masses in nanos and upsetting in others
What are the hands
A. machines
No what are the hands
A. Delorians that link us to trains
Mother's milk allowing life to prosper
What is the silence
A. Madness that provides peace
Who are the compatriots
A. Shadows wavering out glimps to ourselves


(* WHIP is a baseball statistic that adds a walks and hits during a pitchers start. Then, they are divided by innings that are pitched.)

Junkyard Quote 3, Week 4

We had, I told them, the worst shower discipline of any team I've ever been around." Derek Dooley this week about his Tennessee team.

Sign Inventory, Week 4

Autun Begins in Martins Ferry, Ohio

In the Shreve High football stadium,
I think of Polacks nurning long beers in Tiltonsville,
And gray faces of Negroes in the blast furnace at Benwood,
And the ruptured night watchmen of Wheeling Steel,
Dreaming of hereos.

All the proud fathers are ashamed to go home.
There women cluck like starved pullets,
Dying for love.

Therefore,
Their sons grow suicidally beautiful
At the beginning of October,
And gallop terribly against each other's bodies.


*There is a use of capital letters for the two ethnic indifications of Polack and Negeros. The only other time capital letters are used are for proper nouns.

*Looking at form, there is a capital letter to begin each line, even if the line is not the beginning of the sentence.

*There is a focus on working class citizens as illastrated in "Gray faces of Neggroes in the blast furnace and Polacks nursing long beers."

*The spearker doesn't seem interested in the game at all, because he is more focused on the people around him.

*The spearker sees football as a violent game as illastrated in the "gallop terribly against each other's bodies."

*Women are struggling with husbands that are "starved" and "dying for love." This is an intersted idea, because they are watching their sons.

*There is a delibrate use of specific towns in Ohio. All fo these references are actual businesses and towns.

*The idea that their sons grow suicidially beautifal is a haunting image of football, because their parents are having troubles.

*The men are dreaming of hereos, while the women are dying for love. Is the speaker point out the difference in they way men and women view life?

*The use of therfore is unique, becaus it is the only one word line in the poem. It causes the reader to think that their children are violent and suicidal, because their parents are distant.

Calisthenics, Week 4

We are made fools of Global Warming.
Last week's newspaper cruses and divides the table.
Mouths rap with nonsense, and
hating nonsense, or sense, like last week's collection call.

Always returning, questions for questions.
Fighting for questions, fighting for answers.
Yet, more curses and divides.
No place for electronic ideas.

Cries that escape, always return
with redeming qualaties.
Thoughts revisted, but escape
through meth bottles of Windex.

Junkyard Quote 2, Week 4

Doctors and scientists said that breaking the four-minute mile was impossible, that one would die in the attempt. Thus, when I got up from the track after collapsing at the finish line, I figured I was dead.
Roger Bannister (After becoming the first person to break the four-minute mile, 1952)

Junkyard Quote 1, Week 4

My dad sells meth in Windex bottles. - Student in class.

Sign Inventory, Week 3

107 & Amsterdam

A phalanz of cabs surges uptown in tune
to the staggered lights an two young black
men spurt across the dark avenute (two a.m.)

ahead of them: We're here, motherfuckers,
don't mess up. Three of five cabs honk: We're here
too, older and clawing for a living, don't

fuck up. The cabs rush uptown and the lights
go green ahead like a good explanation.
Eveyone knows this ballet. Nobody falls or brakes.

Tonight i talked for hours and never said
one thing so close tot he truculent heart of speech
as those horn blats, that dash across Amsterdam,

not to persuade nor to be understood but
a kind of signature, a scrawl on the air:
We're here, room for all of us if we be alert.

* A phalanx of cabs is an interesting image, because it inovkes ideas of war in the city.

*(two a.m.) It's odd that it is pointed out that two men dart accross the dark avenue. Is there some added meaning here?

*The conversations seems to be the cabbies, but we are not sure who is speaking and why.

*The fact that good explanations are green is an interesting fact.

*The use of the enjaments through the entire poem create a tension that helps with the imagery of a busy city.

*Only two lines end stanzas with periods, and they both have to deal with being alert or able to stop.

*Is the ballet here just talking about cabs or could there be a more deeper meaning.

*The repetition of "We're Here" is said three times and there seems to be some kind of tension that is evident.

*The idea that even though we talk for hours without saying anything more important that car horns beeping is a profound image.

*Where is there room for us all? Is it a cab or life? There are a few ideas that provoke thought.

Improv, Week 3

Impov of "I Went into the Maverick Bar" by Gary Snyder


I went into Tailgate


I went into the tailgate
in Tuscaloosa, Alabama.
And shovled down brats and chips
bathed in beer.
My chubby exterior hideden under a Nike pullover.
I'd left my wallet in the car.

Two drunks argued about Florida
by Denny-Chimes.
A mother asked us
where we grew up?
the Millon Dollar band began to play
"Yeah Alabama"
And with the next chorus
two fans started to fight.
They embraced like two lions fighting
over territory;
I recalled last year's game
in Athens, Georgia.
The elation and roughness-
marriage-my stuidity.
I could almost love you again.
If only-we weren't fans-
under an obligation of faith-
In the shadow of the giant concrete monster
I become myself again,
The real life is back, and
"I love you once again."

Response to Journal, Week 3.

This comes from Rachel this week:

As a public school teacher, I do not give my students enough one on one instruction and discussion about their writing. I noted this because this week, as a student, I was feeling insecure and unprepared for this class. I'm sure that many of my students feel this way as well due to years and years or bad scores, failed tests, and teachers telling them "No, that is not how we write". Instead of giving up, as many of my students do, I was able to meet with Dr. Davidson to discuss the particulars. I left the meeting re-energized about my writing and confident that I could do this and maybe even do it well. As I walked back to my car, I thought about how many students feel as overwhelmed as I did on a daily basis but have no outlet for it because of the type of whole class writing instruction I often offer. This week, we are writing a paper for a school wide writing contest, and I am going to take the time to sit down with each and every student, one on one, and discuss their writing. Some may love it; some may hate it, but at least I have given them the opportunity to voice their ideas and opinions about their own writing. I spoke in one of my fist journals of letting the students "speak the language of writing". I think this is a perfect opportunity.

This is a very good look at how we run our classrooms. I often times feel the same way about my students and their writing. We are under so much intense pressure to meet all our standards with testing, and giving one-on-one time seems impossible. I've never thought about it before, because we are always working for something. That means we have to take the time to help cultivate their writing. I'm looking for ways to change this and I'm thinking having some kind one-on-one time each week, where I sit down with 5-10 students per class. That would give me a change to reach everybody in a month's time and about 3 times a semester. I'm glad I came across this post, because I think this is something that all teachers could learn from this post.

Junkyard Quotes 4, Week 3

I may be left-handed, but I'm always Right! -- Anonymous

Junkyard Quotes, Week 3

Wrinkles should merely indicate where smiles have been. -- Mark Twain

Pedagogy Forum, Week 3

This week I spent my first major time on poetry of the semester. I was hoping to that my last few weeks were going to prepare me for questions from the class. We spent 20 minutes just working on a sign inverntory, which went quite well. The students were more than willing to break down a poem before we got close to ascertaining meanings. The students were involved and it was good to see that they were actually engaged in a peom we were reading. We are going to spend a little more time on Monday with more poems and I hope it goes as well.

I found when you break the information the students respond better to the exercise. I'm really excited to see if this continues as we spend more time on poetry. I'm going to have them do some imatations on Tuesday. Hopefully, they can take there all the information and start to flesh out their own poetry.

Free Write, Week 3

[Untitled]


What to do with 120 minutes?
Many choices, none that really make sense.
120 Minutes to find peace, or
create a revolution.

Necessities include a sack filled with nutrition, and
podcasts that make the clock run.
Responsibilities linger like dew in the morning,
yet sitting takes hold.

120 minutes keeps sanity in check,
Unless invasion sets down.
120 minutes for 175 days
Creates imigation or frustration.

Everyday the same, everyday the mundane.
Work is not an option,
even with the importance, or lack there of,
movtivation still melts into yesterday or tomorrow.

Junkyard quote 2, Week 3

"If you come to a fork in the road, take it." ~Yogi Berra

I love Yogi, just full of great ideas. This came off an email I got this week and it was their signature.

Junkyard Quotes 1, Week 3

"Yo daddy crazy" - Overhead student conversation.

Calisthenics, Week 3

[Untitled]

When the last out is recorded, celebration.
When the last out is recorded, relief.
Feelings of jubilation yet empty.

When the last out is recorded, new pain.
When the last out is recorded, new goals.
Darkness again.

When the last out is recorded, seems empty.
When the last out is recorded, was
it worth the wait.

When the last out is recorded, heartbreak no more.
When the last out is recorded, no more
pain as pleasure.

When the last out is recorded, weeping prevails
When the last out is recorded, streaks
commence.

When the last out is recorded, peace.
When the last out is recorded, chapters close and
no more waiting for next year.

This isn't exactly what I wanted with this idea, and I'm already trying to do a rewrite.

Pedagogy Forum, Week 2

I've been thinking for a few hours about teaching poetry in my classroom. Where do we begin? was always my first question. Reading chapter 5 of triggering town gave me some ideas about the contrustion of a poem, which should help me in the classroom. Being a sports writer has made creative writing difficult for me, because I was always worrying about the facts of a story. Now, I have to step outside that box and find new ways to tell the same story.

The chapter focuses on how we can make our poems more intersting, which is something that I need, so my students should suffer the same problem. Instead of tyring to come up with types of poems to write, I think I will start with simple writing exercises and hopefully poems will come out of there. Then, we can move on to learing about the different styles and types of poems. I already feel 1,000% better about teaching poetry, and it has only been a few days in class. Hopefully, I will continue to grow and try new things to reach my students. I really feel that all educators could benefit from taking classes like this, because they are way better than professional learning workshop about learning focused schools.

Improv, Week 2

Sadness

Shuntaro Tanikawa


Sadness
A half-peeled apple
Not a metaphor
Not a poem
Merely there
A half-pealed apple
Sadness
Merely there
Yesterday's evening paper
Merely there
Merely there
A warm breast
Merely there
Nightfall
Sadness
Apart from words
Apart from the heart
Merely here
The things of today

Sadness
Chris Yarbrough

Sadness
Waiting for next year
Not a title
Not a championship
Merely there
Waiting for next year
Sadness
Merely there
Yesterday's box score
Merely there
Merely there
A blue flag
Merely there
Lights cut off
Sadness
Apart from expectations
Apart from happiness
Merely here
Waiting for next year

Sign Inventory, Week2

A Poetry Calendar

I who wait for myself
I who don't appear
again today I turn a page of the sea
throw away a tight-lipped dead clam

the day not quite dawn the beach white
a mother's barren womb a broken oar

I who wait for myself
I who don't appear
again today I turn a page of the horizon
throw away a snake's too light slough

the day not quite dawn a useless parasol
the suspicious laugh cold fried food

I who wait for myself
I who don't appear
again today I turn the page of the sky
sweep together and throw away all the soot stardust

the day not quite dawn the grass full of hanging tears
I leaf and leaf through a calendar

yet I don't appear
I who wait for myself
world of imaginary numbers love without arms


1. The first three stanzas all begin the same way, but the third and fourth lines have variations.

2. The refrains all start the same way, but after the first two lines there are changes to the words.

3. The first major change happens in the last stanza. It is only three lines compared with four from the other stanzas.

4. The speaker changes the last stanza from "I who wait for myself" to "yet I don't appear I wait fro my self." There is a reverse from lines one and two.

5. There are no punctuation marks in the entire poem. Each line breaks without ending to create a feeling of openness.

6. In the refrains, the author uses huge spaces between words. It is the only time that the he creates this space throughout the poem.

7. All the stanzas begin with the same three lines, except for the third stanza, where it begins "sweep together" instead of throw away. But throw away is used later in the same line.

8. The third park of the refrain is very different each time. You have the white beach, useless parasol and grass full of hanging tears. The third item is very different, because it invokes a much different image.

9. In the final three lines, the objects become much more abstract. We go from leafing through a calendar to love without arms.

10. The idea that the speaker is not there is interesting, because the "I" is able turn the sky, sea and horizon.

Response to a classmate’s journal, Week 2

From Zac Cooper's journal:

Throughout the course of my writing this week I have tried to employ some of the notions we have been discussing in class. One of these notions that stuck out for me was the technique of using words within a poem for their sound and/or connotation instead of their meaning. While I grasped this idea in our class discussions and can observe it in other writers' poems, as a first time creative writer I was having trouble using the technique in meaningful ways in my own writing. However, I feel that while completing the Improv/Imitation entry for this week I had an epiphany of sorts with the technique.
Even though this entry was an imitation of another's work, I went through several drafts of my poetic attempt. As I continuously changed words and searched for synonyms I noticed that I was choosing words based on their sound alone. I didn't mean to, but I definitely started doing it somewhere along the line. After I noticed this technique taking place I went back and analyzed what I was choosing and why. I realized that there were two specific sounds I enjoyed using in that particular poem (which I titled Weekly Relic). Those sounds were the soft, conciliatory "s" and the hard, sharp "k" sounds. So, I decided to use and contrast those sounds within the poem and the title. Now, by no means am I singing any form of praises of this poem or claiming to have broken through a milestone in the art. However, I am saying that for me, a person who has never looked in the mirror and seen a creative writer, it was fun.

I understand a lot of where Zac is coming from and I was struggling with the same felings. During the imatation process, I find myself trying to emulate the poem's style with some kind of idea. I'm still working on my imatation this week, because I can't find the right balance. Zac's comments on creative writing are telling for us that don't consider ourselves creative writers. I feel that many of the ideas in this class will help us come to grips with the notion that everyone can write if they spend enough time working through those different exercises to help us come up with intersting items in our poetry.

Junkyard Quotes 4, Week 2

"There's a thin line between heaven and here." - Bubbles

Junkyard Quotes 3, Week 2

Ayo, lesson here, Bey. You come at the king, you best not miss. - Omar, "The Wire"

Mr. Little, how does a man rob drug dealers for eight or nine years and live to tell about it?
Omar: Day at a time I suppose?

Junkyard Quotes 2, Week 2

If a woman has to choose between catching a fly ball and saving an infant's life, she will choose to save the infant's life without even considering if there are men on base. ~Dave Barry

People ask me what I do in winter when there's no baseball. I'll tell you what I do. I stare out the window and wait for spring. ~Rogers Hornsby

There are three things in my life which I really love: God, my family, and baseball. The only problem - once baseball season starts, I change the order around a bit. ~Al Gallagher, 1971

I see great things in baseball. It's our game - the American game. It will take our people out-of-doors, fill them with oxygen, give them a larger physical stoicism. Tend to relieve us from being a nervous, dyspeptic set. Repair these losses, and be a blessing to us. ~Walt Whitman

Calisthenics, Week 2

Vertigo

Somebody point the commotion,
like we are some great prize.
Devouring the many-storied building,
like a hungry beat in Autumn.
My insides shift,
like a piece of the road.
Dreams climb over a fence as
the circle works.
We are priviledge, because
James Stewart is passionately in love.


I had about 15 more lines, but I saw this theme after I read the like about James Stewart. I was wondering if I could build a poem around James Stewart with just the lines I read in the books. I made many cuts and changed some of the word chances.

Free Write, Week 2

Extra

The journey of growth, intriguing, yet
scary all the time
There were parties, books and class.
Still, nothing prepares for shock.

Fuss surrounds as cells provide extra
Families gather and pray.
Yet, there is nothing compared
to your face.

What will life bring?
All this fuss over extra.
To be safe and fulfilling,
but be as close to regular.

Mom and Dad spend hours gazing.
They will always be willing and ready.
Just because you have 27, instead of 26
will make you that much more special.

Junkyard Quotes 1, Week 2

"I can't tolerate any organization that is intolerant towards any group. Well, I guess it's ok to hate the Nazis."
- Conversation in car about religion.

Sign Inventorary, Week 1

Robert Creeley

I Know a Man

As I sd to my
friend, beame I am
always talking,-John, I

sd, which was not his
name, the darkness sur-
rounds us, what

can we do against
it, or else, shall we &
why not, buy a goddamn big car,

drive, he sd, for
christ's sake, look
out where yr going.

*There is an interesting use of the lack of vowels.

*There is an odd change in the third stanza where the author uses the & for and. Why do that now? This is the only stanza that doesn't have word without vowels.

*The peom is one long conversation, which is an interesting way to write a poem.

*The speaker calls his friend John, but he points out that that is not his name.

*The speaker speaks out about the darkness, which is mentioned right after his friend's name.

*What are the speaker's avoiding?

*Why is the speaker always talking? It is a flaw in the character or something else?

*The goddamn big car is a change of tone for the poem. Maybe it is a shot at the industrial advances.

*The peom is one sentence, which is an interesting stream of thought. There are two commas, but no periods until the end.

*The title of the peom talks about a man, but nowhere do we find out anything about him.

Improv/Imatation, Week 1

Mark Strand:

"Coming to This"

We have doen what we wanted.
We have discarded dreams, preferring the heavy industry
of each other, and we have welcomed grief
and called ruin the impossible habit to break.

And now we are here.
The dinner is ready and we cannot eat.
The meat sits in the white lake of its dish.
The wine waits.

Coming to this
has its rewards: nothing is promised, nothing is taken away.
We have no heart or saving grace,
no palce to go, no reason to remain.


"School Bell"

We show up for the bell.
We leave when it rings
or when we feel moved
and feel bored.

We sit in the room.
The class is starting and we cannot learn.
The distractions are all around.
Some are small and others are silent.

We show up for the bell
and it has possible rewards: money or fame.
We have no feelings or motivation,
no other place to roam, no true reason to stay.

Pedagogy Forum, Week 1

Teaching poetry is something that has never come natural to me. I actually feel like I do more harm than good. When Dr. Davidson was talking about some of the way poetry is read to students, it was like he was pointing right at me. I know he wasn't, but it didn't change the fact that I was that guy saying, "this is what it means." I probably taught that way, because I wasn't comfortable with the material, so I had to throw some smoke and mirrors in front of the class to avoid being found out. In all, I probably spend less time with poetry than any other teacher. I teach just enough to get by and hope my students are able to comprehend enough to make logical guesses on their standardized tests.

As we work in this class, I feel like I will evaluate my stance on poetry and how I approach it in class. I feel part of my problem stems from the fact that I was a newspaper reporter for a few years. The only poetry I read was "Baseball's Sad Lexicon":

These are the saddest of possible words:
"Tinker to Evers to Chance."
Trio of bear cubs, and fleeter than birds,
Tinker and Evers and Chance.
Ruthlessly pricking our gonfalon bubble,
Making a Giant hit into a double –
Words that are heavy with nothing but trouble:
"Tinker to Evers to Chance."

Granted, I love the history of this poem and do teach it on occasion. Side note, all three of Tinkers, Evers and Chance made it into the baseball Hall of Fame based on the popularity of this quick poem. So, I guess there is poetry I do feel comfortable teaching.

Junkyard Quotes 4, Week 1

"It's like a ghost town in here." - A student in response of walking into my classroom before the bell rings.

"Some special kid bumped into me in the lunch room and didn't say anything. I'm pissed and don't want to do nothing now." - From one of my students.

Junkyard Quotes 3, Week 1

“The doors we open and close each day decide the lives we live.”
-Quotes about life.

“Sometimes it's the smallest decisions that can change your life forever.”


I was looking for some quotes about how life can change really fast. With all the stuff that is going on in my life, I was looking for things that might help me make sense of things.

Response to a classmate’s journal, Week 1

I'll be honest. The first class was a little unnerving. I have never written a poem and given it to someone I was not familiar with. In fact, I have rarely given my poetry to anyone. I have either read it to them or watched them read it. I have always been very protective of my writing. I am not an "open book". My poetry was for me, and me alone. There has only been one exception, and I was letting go of someone very important. It was the last step in moving forward, the last step towards freedom. Maybe giving my writing to someone else is a good thing. I need to learn to open up more. I need not to hoard my thoughts and feelings. I need to find that sense of freedom again.
- Laura L.

I was reading everyone's blog this week, and I was trying to find something to write about this week. I wasn't sure where to begin, until I came across Laura's blog. I had many of her same thoughts on Tuesday, except for the fact I do not consider my self a poet or a creative writer. I've had things published before, but those were all newspaper articles. My four years as a sports writer did not prepare me for writing poetry. I'm glad I've challenged myself, but it does not make the process less nerve wracking. I'm just glad that other people are struggling with this concept as much as I am. I hope to become a better writer, and more importantly, a better teacher.

Junkyard Quotes 2, Week 1

These quotes come from one of my favorite overlooked movies of all time.

"Now, a few words on looking for things. When you go looking for something specific, your chances of finding it are very bad. Because of all the things in the world, you're only looking for one of them. When you go looking for anything at all, your chances of finding it are very good. Because of all the things in the world, you're sure to find some of them."


I always say that the essence of my work relies fundamentally on two basic principles: objectivity and observation, or "the two obs" as I call them. My work relies on my ability to remain absolutely, purely objective, detached. I have mastered the fine art of detachment. And while it comes at some cost, this supreme objectivity is what makes me, I dare say, the greatest observer the world has ever known.

- Daryl Zero, from Zero Effect

Free Write, Week 1

Wait till next year

Earlier stalks the present,
Which turns to hope each Winter.

Always looking to shake,
but never able to run.

Four words that haunt.
Four words that give hope.

Thousands share in misery
Looking for ecstasy.

101 grows to 102,
with no end in sight.

Is this the year?
Alas, we still wait for next year.

Junkyard Quotes 1, Week 1

"America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It's been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt, and erased again."
Terrance Mann, Field of Dreams

"I can't be failing this quiz."
Student from Class

"This is crickett, Ebob."
Student to another studnet about a poster project.


See, the king stay the king, a'ight?
D'Angelo, "The Wire"

Calisthenics, Week 1

What the Oriole Said

Sunlight winks from wings
As Gray-spotted Lady Bugs buzz
Flight lanes filled with Polka-dotted Volkswagons
As one brave bug inches along a dandelion
Scents of freshly tended garden invade dreams
They sink towards the cotton froth float