Sign Inventory, Post 10, Week 11

Self-Portrait as a Moment in 1963
Jake York

Supper's late, and my mother sprawls
before the console, half-watching Gunsmoke,

Alabama History spread before her,
though school's almost out for summer

and the chicken's almost fried
to that perfect crisp. Then it's over,

credits stamped over final stills,
and the show gives way to news,

a minute of film from Birmingham,
not an hour south, where police

are turning dogs on kids as young
as she, spraying them with hoses

until they fall, the water she isn't watching
curling like smoke in the air.

My grandmother flicks the switch
and they're gone. They eat

in quiet, each cutting a breast
or thigh into steam, forking

beans or macaroni until
the plates' blank faces shine again.

This is years before
she'd meet my father, before

I'd come to that table,
that food, that room.

There's a silence here
I want to scratch away

so I can see what's underneath,
what they don't recall.

I want to turn someone's head,
my grandfather's, maybe, or my mother's,

back toward the TV, where
the tube's still fading,

the ghost of that scene
on the edge of that room.

I want someone there to see
and remember, so I can leave

and go back into the future,
not history. Not yet.



-This poem uses the scene of the police spraying the kids with fire hoses to symbolize something bigger that the family isn't talking about (hence shutting off the TV). Once the television is off, though, there still remains the ghost of the image on the screen, just like whatever it is they're not saying stays in their heads.

-York uses the word "that" quite a bit in this piece. He uses it to bring specificity to the scene as well as to relate to the reader with general concepts. Specificity example: "the ghost of that scene / on the edge of that room." Generalization example: "and the chicken's almost fried / to that perfect crisp."

- It is interesting that he chose to call this a self-portrait, although he is not actually in the scene. He wants to be a part of it so that he can manipulate the details to get more out of it, but he can't. I would have to do much more research to offer an explanation for this, but I still thought it was worth bringing up.

Improv 2, Post 9, Week 11

To a Poor Old Woman
William Carlos Williams

munching a plum on 
the street a paper bag
of them in her hand

They taste good to her
They taste good 
to her. They taste
good to her

You can see it by
the way she gives herself
to the one half
sucked out in her hand

Comforted
a solace of ripe plums
seeming to fill the air
They taste good to her

To a Sweet Old Dog

Casey LaRue

chewing his leg on

the floor his fluffy tail

wrapped around his body

It feels good to him

It feels good

to him. It feels

good to him

You can see it by

the way he licks his nose

and smiles at me

when he takes a break to breathe

Relieved

a peace of flealess fur

seeming to speak through his eyes

It feels good to him

Improv 1, Post 8, Week 11

Narcissus incomparabilis
Jake York

Lean down, lean down
while the light's abducted,
its last skirts caught
then torn through the trees.
Keep your own eye still
so no one catches you.
When it's gone, it's everywhere--
air a memory of light,
incident turned ambient,
and it never takes long
for this nacre to grow
over each absence or intruder
and become the world.
Lean down now,
creel of starlight and mood,
and reflect again
your inherited light.
World may ripple--
pearl scale, pebble, bone--
behind all memory,
may ghost you, stranger,
where you don't belong.
But lean down now,
as memory hardens
its incomparable light.
Don't let the sun
set on you again.


Caladium bicolor
Casey LaRue

Lie to me, lie to me
while your shape's endearing
like someone's hand reaching
for their own sagging heart.
Keep your leaves to yourself,
your own hand reaching for your heart.
When you're here, you spread like paint,
your deceptive name
brushing my skin,
and it never takes long
for someone to know they've touched you,
all your toxic parts
sitting undisturbed
while my cells are on fire.
Lie to me now,
fox and rabbit leaf,
and let your endearing shapes
lure someone else.
Georgia will turn redder
as the cooling clay soothes the skin,
but lie to me now,
as beauty ignites curiosity,
stretching my fingers to you again.

Peer Response 2, Post 7, Week 11

In response to Brandy's "Improv 2 Week 11":


The first stanza in this piece is definitely striking, especially with all the repetition. I would suggest slightly reworking it to even out the sound of it for the reader. Something like, "I am on the wrong side,
of the road,
of town,
I am in the wrong,
in the unfamiliar."
This gets everything repeated two times and it reads a little more easily (in my opinion).
You talk a lot about color in this piece, more than you talk about yin and yang. I would either change the title or work to incorporate it a little more throughout the piece. I know that you mention two men who are opposite, but I would still like to see more of the yin/yang aspect. I was originally drawn to this draft because of the title, so if that's what you choose to change, then I think you should explore that concept in another draft. It doesn't have to be about murder or people or anything in particular. Just objects that seem totally different but in the end are the same.

Peer Response 1, Post 6, Week 11

In response to Emmanuel's "Improvisation 1, Week 11":

This is a pretty dark piece, I must say, but it's very interesting. I think this is about a girl who died from domestic abuse. If that's wrong, disregard most of what I say in this comment.
In the first stanza, you wrote "...a ring / that was slipped on her finger / at one time till death did her / and the husband apart."
I know you're trying to get across to us that this is her wedding ring, but if you're going to use the idea of "until death do you part," there needs to be something shocking or unexpected with it. Did she know it would happen? If the husband killed her (which is what I think based on the draft), then he "did them part." That could be an interesting angle to look at.
One part that struck me as awkward was the end of the fist stanza: "The dirt now lay around / and under her nails, in her nostrils, / wiped upon her face marks the date." You have two verbs in this sentence (lay and marks) and they are in two different tenses. Either get rid of one or add another subject to smooth this portion out.
Be careful of brand names. Band-Aid is an actual brand. If you don't want to talk about a specific brand, you should use "bandages" instead. Also, the word "gauge" seems like it should be "gauze," and "unhealable" is awkward and sounds a little more juvenile than the rest of the piece.
If I were you, I would get rid of the couplet at the end. I know it was part of the original piece, but an improvisation doesn't have to match up exactly. If something doesn't work for your draft, you have the freedom to get rid of it altogether. I think this is a good draft so far. Looking forward to seeing what you do with it from here.

Free Entry, Post 5, Week 12

Fall (This is just a working title. Suggestions would be appreciated.)

And in the end of summer,
all the greedy trees
have crammed too many leaves
onto their branches,
flaunting like monochromatic peacocks.
The leaves turn
yellow, orange, red,
warning the trees to stop
and be satisfied,
but they keep
snatching, stocking, sprouting,
until they lose their grip on
the first leaf.
Swirling down some unseen drain,
the leaf spins until it rests
and blends with the dead grass.
the perennial willows weep along
as a child does when his mother,
in an effort to save a single falling cookie,
drops the entire dozen,
burning her hand
and standing the entire winter,
hand in mouth,
blinking back tears.

Junkyard Quote 4, Post 4, Week 11

"...and lose these Death-handles."

This is from Metalocalypse. I don't remember the rest of the quote, but it's not important. I just thought the idea of "death handles" instead of love handles was interesting.

Junkyard Quote 3, Post 3, Week 11

"And we think we're so open-minded, until we get there. And then we're like, 'Whoa. We're not.'"

I was on the escalator in the mall and these two guys were behind me. They were dressed in bright, rebellious colors with beanies and big thick glasses. It was interesting to overhear them having their tiny revelation.

Junkyard Quote 2, Post 2, Week 11

"I don't need your help. I can die on my own."

I was arguing with my boyfriend about video games when I said this. He kept trying to help me, but every time I would do what he said, I would die. So I told him to leave me alone. It didn't go over so well, but it got me a junkyard quote.

Junkyard Quote 1, Post 1, Week 11

"The only thing Chinese about me is I enjoy a good duck. And I cough with my mouth open."

I was waiting at the bus stop today and a guy walked up talking extremely loudly. It was echoing in the tiny glass box and giving me a headache. He proceeded to tell his friends to go to the airport where they would see Asian people coughing with mouths uncovered and being generally "unhygenic," as he called it.