Archive for November, 2002
Tuesday November 26, 2002
0From the chapbook…
pantoum: a poem of indeterminate length, composed of quatrains in which the second and fourth lines of each stanza serve as the first and third lines of the next, the process continuing through the last stanza.
Living by the Fist
He learned life the wrong way,
living it by the fist.
He watched his dad with his mom first and
practiced what he’d been taught.
Living life by the fist,
he hurt her.
He practiced what he’d been taught,
beating the woman he said he loved.
He hurt her,
blaming her for his actions.
He beat the woman he said he loved
and stormed out of the house.
He blamed her for his actions,
she believed his accusations.
He stormed out of the house
and she was left to recover alone.
She believed his accusations
and tried to make things better.
She was left to recover alone
until he came home with flowers.
She tried to make things better
but saw the beginnings of the end.
He came home with flowers
to begin living life by the fist again.
i wanna be
0I wanna be a poet -
To wield words like a sword
slicing through rhetoric
cleanly.
I wanna be a writer -
To change opinions with an image
worming into the subconscious
firmly.
I wanna be an artist -
To create worlds as shelter
guarding each soul
fiercely.
I wanna be…
Tuesday November 19, 2002
0I might have more to say this week…I’m not sure. Except that I’m in the middle of putting together a chapbook which is my final project in a class I’m taking. So, I still won’t be around a whole lot this week. Finals, in both the classes I’m taking and the class I’m teaching, are in 3 weeks. Yikes. There’s way too much to do.
pantoum ~ living by the fist
0From the chapbook…
pantoum: a poem of indeterminate length, composed of quatrains in which the second and fourth lines of each stanza serve as the first and third lines of the next, the process continuing through the last stanza.
Living by the Fist
He learned life the wrong way,
living it by the fist.
He watched his dad with his mom first and
practiced what he’d been taught.
Living life by the fist,
he hurt her.
He practiced what he’d been taught,
beating the woman he said he loved.
He hurt her,
blaming her for his actions.
He beat the woman he said he loved
and stormed out of the house.
He blamed her for his actions,
she believed his accusations.
He stormed out of the house
and she was left to recover alone.
She believed his accusations
and tried to make things better.
She was left to recover alone
until he came home with flowers.
She tried to make things better
but saw the beginnings of the end.
He came home with flowers
to begin living life by the fist again.
busy
0I might have more to say this week…I’m not sure. Except that I’m in the middle of putting together a chapbook which is my final project in a class I’m taking. So, I still won’t be around a whole lot this week. Finals, in both the classes I’m taking and the class I’m teaching, are in 3 weeks. Yikes. There’s way too much to do.
Wednesday November 13, 2002
0I’m sorry I haven’t been around. I still don’t have too much to say. A lot is going on here and great things are happening but I just don’t have a voice to put to them, yet.
I feel like I’ve lost my voice.
Thursday November 7, 2002
0I don’t have anything to say. I’m at a loss for words. That’s something new.
Heh.
still nada
0I’m sorry I haven’t been around. I still don’t have too much to say. A lot is going on here and great things are happening but I just don’t have a voice to put to them, yet.
I feel like I’ve lost my voice.
