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I'd like to use somebody else's
hands
Preferably yours
Holding me like
a screwdriver
Keeping us
in place
When we egg drop
soup
Crack and disconnect
like static
Scattering the outside
of a balloon
Electrical residue
catching our tongues
Like falling gospel
droplets
Axed
Out of holy water
like a remedy
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
Run Wild (by Chad Forbregd)
Once I was little. I said my prayers,
I took my vitamins,
and yet I still went wrong.
The truth is, Cleopatra was Greek,
not Egyptian.
She liked her coffee fiery,
bolt cutter strong.
Once, after a shower,
I saw her without makeup.
Like dreams she looked real.
She moved like an animal
or child. Like a shark
she swims backwards in secret.
She liked Miller 64
and lightening bugs.
Her eyes were an extension of the atmosphere.
The truth is sometimes my loneliness gets lonely.
Lonely like the human heart
I have never had to resuscitate.
I spent my childhood saying
somethings in life are real enough for me.
*****************************
I'm in love with the way this poem moves in and out of all these ideas that don't always relate, but work together in the weird world that has been created here. Chad just has the natural ability to wind around like this and land on lines like She liked her coffee fiery/bolt cutter strong or she swims backwards in secret. I'm always thoroughly impressed with Chad's poems and this was no exception. He keeps the same tone here as he does with other poems even though I believe this form differs from most of his others. His confident tone also increases how true his poems feel...even when it's not possible that they are. Well not for the most part.
I took my vitamins,
and yet I still went wrong.
The truth is, Cleopatra was Greek,
not Egyptian.
She liked her coffee fiery,
bolt cutter strong.
Once, after a shower,
I saw her without makeup.
Like dreams she looked real.
She moved like an animal
or child. Like a shark
she swims backwards in secret.
She liked Miller 64
and lightening bugs.
Her eyes were an extension of the atmosphere.
The truth is sometimes my loneliness gets lonely.
Lonely like the human heart
I have never had to resuscitate.
I spent my childhood saying
somethings in life are real enough for me.
*****************************
I'm in love with the way this poem moves in and out of all these ideas that don't always relate, but work together in the weird world that has been created here. Chad just has the natural ability to wind around like this and land on lines like She liked her coffee fiery/bolt cutter strong or she swims backwards in secret. I'm always thoroughly impressed with Chad's poems and this was no exception. He keeps the same tone here as he does with other poems even though I believe this form differs from most of his others. His confident tone also increases how true his poems feel...even when it's not possible that they are. Well not for the most part.
Individual Maze (by Elizabeth Miley)
When I die throw the rest of my
tea in my flower garden, but buy me more
every month.
Eat a tuna sandwich for me.
Visit Goodwill on their half-off day and find
me a turtle neck to put in my drawer.
Tell me some bad jokes they are my
favorite.
Don’t sleep on my pillow I didn’t get to
wash it. Go to the beach with me and
bring someone new.
Please just try the tuna…
Don’t worry I just changed my oil.
*****************************
There is something about the simplicity of this poem by Elizabeth that I just love. There is so much that is said about this person, but really not much was said about them at all. The speaker is very aware of the self....even to the point that they are concerned with their unwashed pillow in a world where they no longer exist. I just think this was very sweet and that it feels complete.
Chapbook Update
So I'm going to do this the best I can; chicken pecking at my tablet while my laptop gets repaired. There should be a PSA about the importance of backing up your work. Right now I feel like a part of me is lost somewhere off of Mishawaka Avenue...waiting for strangers to recover it. And hopefully that will be the case. But for now I will discuss the progress of my chapbook project.
I think it is coming along just great. I took a temporary hiatus over break from writing much, but everything before that has seemed to be working well as singular pieces and together as a whole. I have some poems like "Sixth of August" and "Conveyor Belts" that don't mesh as well visually, but I think one or two moments of straying from my standard form might be beneficial to keeping things fresh. I think my theme seems to be holding up, and in poems like "Morals" and "Snapped" I hear my voice in a way that is much clearer than some of my other work. I'm really enjoying doing this, and looking through old letters and pictures to try and bring original ideas to the table...which is difficult when writing about war and everything that comes with it. That is probably my biggest struggle. What can I say about this that hasn't already been said? Is there anything left to cover? I guess that is everybody's problem really. Hasn't everything already been said or in some way acknowledged at least once?
My title right now is: Snapped
TOC:
On a June Day
Disconnected at the Hips
Cauterize
Snapped
Morals
Conveyor Belts
Veteran's Day
Blackbirds
The Sixth of August
Dinner Table Conversations
Shed Town
Chuck
Combat Jack
Observations Made While Running on a Treadmill at Fort Gordon
Fort Bragg
Homecoming
****this is all very rough
I think it is coming along just great. I took a temporary hiatus over break from writing much, but everything before that has seemed to be working well as singular pieces and together as a whole. I have some poems like "Sixth of August" and "Conveyor Belts" that don't mesh as well visually, but I think one or two moments of straying from my standard form might be beneficial to keeping things fresh. I think my theme seems to be holding up, and in poems like "Morals" and "Snapped" I hear my voice in a way that is much clearer than some of my other work. I'm really enjoying doing this, and looking through old letters and pictures to try and bring original ideas to the table...which is difficult when writing about war and everything that comes with it. That is probably my biggest struggle. What can I say about this that hasn't already been said? Is there anything left to cover? I guess that is everybody's problem really. Hasn't everything already been said or in some way acknowledged at least once?
My title right now is: Snapped
TOC:
On a June Day
Disconnected at the Hips
Cauterize
Snapped
Morals
Conveyor Belts
Veteran's Day
Blackbirds
The Sixth of August
Dinner Table Conversations
Shed Town
Chuck
Combat Jack
Observations Made While Running on a Treadmill at Fort Gordon
Fort Bragg
Homecoming
****this is all very rough
Sway
I did not come from
your rib
and we are not
caged
I did come for you
though
to sink into
you
like a ten pound
line
into
the water
and unhook your
mind
in my hands
and pull it heavy
into me
like a wave.
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
Erasure Assignment
Jesus
also known as
an explosive device
was a self-sacrificing
man
he could have done
anything
but he followed his
heart
which worked
in a more dangerous
realm
it's difficult to believe he's gone.
***************************************
This is my erasure from an obituary that ran in June of 2008 in the Elkhart Truth. I'm not really fond of this poem, but I do like the idea of Jesus being an explosive device.
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
Static Line
did
you
ever
hear
the
one
about
the
guy
who
fell
from
the
sky
like
some
violent
angel
being
kicked
out
of
heaven
by
Jesus
Christ
himself?
you
know
the
one
that
ends
with
him
landing
on
the
nightly
news
while
we
idly
watch
as
he
begins
to
tear
the
world
apart
one
day
at
a
time
one
man
at
a
time
one
a
time
left
right
left
the joke's on you.
***********************************
Assignment: This is the poem I chose as one that I don't think is as successful as others I have written. I've been working on this one for almost two years now, and I just don't think I have it yet. The breaks never seems quite right, and the second stanza I think could be worded differently. I have omitted the last line several times, but added it back in for this assignment just to show what I'm working with. I'm trying to create the sensation of falling from the sky, but by doing so I read this poem extremely fast when I say it out loud. Maybe one day I will wake up and figure out what needs to be done, but as for now I play around with this one every other month or so...
Snapped
I’ve
seen pictures
that
I wasn’t supposed to see
taken
near the edge
of
a burning poppy field
men
dressed in white
jaws
hanging
open
bullet
holes exiting the
left or right
sides
of their heads
brown
skin
blending
in with the ground
and
you kneeling down
next
to them
like
it’s the first day
of
shotgun season
and
you just bagged
a
ten pointer
but
it’s not even November
and
this is not like
the
stuff they show in the movies
this
looks real
maybe
because
it is
or
maybe because you’re
real
to
me
even
though this isn’t you
in
some sense
this
is another universe
and
we don’t even know each other
and
I don’t even have to love the man
in
this picture
but
I do
need
to ask
what
was said before this was taken
Just one more, I wasn’t smiling in that
last one?
**********************************************
Assignment: So I think this poem works because I just wrote it, and it's midnight...but also because I can hear my voice in this one, you know? I feel like the line breaks are in the right places to accurately represent my persona in this piece, and I think the language feels clean to the point that it does what it needs to do without weighing the poem down.
**********************************************
Assignment: So I think this poem works because I just wrote it, and it's midnight...but also because I can hear my voice in this one, you know? I feel like the line breaks are in the right places to accurately represent my persona in this piece, and I think the language feels clean to the point that it does what it needs to do without weighing the poem down.
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