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Workshop



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11 comments:

  1. Funny
    by Cecily Schuler

    In order to write something funny, first
    be upset. Find something on fire that’s crawling
    up the inside of your torso like one too many
    bong hits put you to sleep with the candles left burning,
    wake up to the cat crying, panic tinged, unsure. Wait –

    this isn’t funny.

    In order to write something funny, remember
    the last time you were mad. So mad
    there was only one thing left to do:
    laugh about it. And when laughter crumpled the damning
    and gravity pulled the fury out through the tiny viaducts
    on either side of the bridge spanning your reflection,
    and you swore you could break that mirror with all the weight
    spilling from every empty space inside, you tried, in fact, but wait –

    this isn’t funny.

    In order to write something funny, quit trying
    so hard. Amuse yourself by acknowledging how
    funny you really are, how people are always laughing
    as you perform, as you are always performing, how they
    all love your performance, and as you say to yourself, silly
    people, what do they know about me? Laugh.

    This isn’t funny.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Question and Answer
    by Ruth Dandrea

    This is a test.
    This is only a test.
    If this had been a true
    educational
    experience
    you would have been instructed
    to open a real book
    rather than an examination manual;
    you might have been allowed to talk,
    discuss, argue or simply
    delight in the beauty
    of words on paper;
    you could’ve had time,
    taken time, time
    and time
    again, to reread, look
    out the window
    figure
    how the robin on the maple
    branch figures
    into the bigger
    scheme of things,
    seen circles larger
    that didn't require
    filling in
    with a number
    two pencil,
    fully; you’d have been
    allowed to leave
    stray marks
    and fail to erase
    completely,
    pentimento, every
    artist
    knows adds a depth
    worth
    waiting for. But
    this is only
    a test, which
    makes you subject
    (or is it object)
    not reader
    and certainly not
    writer.

    And when the test
    is in the room,
    I am no longer
    teacher, just proctor,
    or, later, test
    grader,
    when a woman who knows
    none of us
    will drop her six-
    inch binder
    of training
    materials (this
    is not hyperbole,
    I measured
    with my eyes)
    to prepare me
    to read.

    But the best
    will be
    the student
    (excuse me,
    test taker)
    who
    ran out of time
    (we all run out of time)
    who
    didn’t know how to spell
    the character’s
    name
    Morgan,
    and so who
    responded to
    “Why did Morgan…?”
    with
    “Because,
    Moron…”

    This is the best
    the test
    can offer.
    This is what
    this test
    deserves.
    This is the kid
    I will vote for
    for president, or
    at the very least
    commissioner
    of education.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Thanks so much! It's great to have helpful poetry criticism again. Here's the revised poem:

    Old Pipes - Nora Pellegrino

    at night my tongue loosens
    from its rusted spool
    iron pooling at the top of my throat
    i have a tin man jaw
    slick with oil and chomping
    under the glowing orange belly
    of the sky, nearing of dark.

    i spit up my mother’s undercooked sharpness
    her mother’s birdlike tendencies
    pouring out our mouths
    nails and ugly pauses
    i correct you
    my jokes aren’t joking
    the whip in my mouth cracks
    and you quiet

    i would rather have diamonds or thorny roses
    than this corrosive mess
    my slivered tongue pink and red
    i would give my tender
    neck, raw with speech
    to stop this calling up of so many women
    after 10 o'clock at night

    i spit up a record needle
    the edge of a chipped tooth
    crystallizes in my palm
    a piece of string tied to a small anchor from
    a saltwater fish tank
    there’s a lot of scraping
    i grow tired of this evicting
    too bloody to be a vessel
    of history tonight

    i beg to go to bed.
    you cough up a small gem
    in solidarity
    and acquiesce.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Ooooo, love the new title and the tightened language here. Great job!

      Delete
  4. Hi folks,

    Looking forward to writing and reading with you all!

    My Dolly Parton

    Sprawled in front of her lit vanity, Auntie proclaims, Prince is
    half-Filipino. She’s trying to help. We sit at her feet, our dirty
    fingernails scratch at black letters spelling out “Our Multicultural Community”
    (“I’m proud to be _____!”), while she lines her lips in Deep Coral,
    rats her hair out to cover her crowning bald spot.
    And so is Janet Jackson.
    A shock of Extra Hold Vidal Sassoon falls over us like lenten baptism
    (“Do you reject Satan? I do.”). But she can’t claim Dolly
    even as we stuff Auntie’s bras with Kleenex, still warm from her night
    shift at AC Transit. Even as we blow dust off from Real Love:
    Dolly and Kenny and belt Just because I’m blonde doesn’t mean
    I’m dumb and shake our tissue tits into a shower. She snatches
    my limp ponytail, blacker than penciled-in eyebrows, then points
    at each fallen sheet and growls,
    save it for the real tears.

    All best,
    Rachelle

    ReplyDelete
  5. Hi - I'm getting a late start so thanks for your patience, this is what I came up with for the first prompt.

    Unfaithful
    by Laura Hull

    Perhaps I should learn a foreign tongue
    Explore an exotic location
    Unfamiliar and pleasing
    an impromptu French lesson
    I find softness in a world where logic tries to run the show
    a jolt of remembrance
    and the salty surprise in the shape of the nape
    the tender web between fingers
    the shared breath of a yielding sigh

    Danger entrances my bloodbeat
    no, this is not the drugstore saxophone player
    but the gift of wild berries found only on the side of this mountain,
    conditions rare

    But I will not forfeit my native tongue
    the one that knows how to bridge me into a celtic past
    I know little about – oh the roots, the rising of spirit
    the simple spiral celebration
    peaceful and riotous

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Here is the rewrite:
      I want to learn a foreign tongue
      a daring feast between the lips of Lisbon, loosened with flamenco notes;
      an impromptu French lesson on dead end streets
      I find softness in a world where logic tries to run the show
      a jolt of remembrance
      and the salty surprise in the nape
      the tender web between fingers
      the shared breath of a yielding sigh

      Danger entrances my bloodbeat
      no, this is not the drugstore saxophone player
      but the gift of wild berries found only on the side of this mountain,
      conditions rare

      I will not forfeit my native tongue
      the one that knows how to bridge me into a celtic past
      I know little about – oh the roots, the rising of spirit
      the simple spiral celebration
      peaceful and riotous.

      Delete