POST FOR THE WEEK
Read, as if to be quized, Capps through page 33.
In American Hybrid read Ruefle and Beckman as previously
assigned, and also Claudia Rankine.
Look at, read, in Abstract Expressionism, pages 32-41.
Also pages 9 to page 14.
I handed out a packet of Ashbery poems, Berrigan
poems. I want you to read the Berrigan sonnets
and check out Gertrude Stein for Wednesday. I have
extras I can hand out on Monday. Compare and contrast
the Capps with the Berrigan.
Also for Wednesday, bring your sketchbook,
glue sticks, scissors, three or so magazines, something
to draw with. Anything you think could be useful
to collage with.
Bring Nocturnal Conspiracies to class . . .
Bring, for Monday, your four poems, the two search
engine poems from the second class, and the two
from yesterday (Thursday), one poem per page,
revised a little bit. Remember the last poem needs
to be in 18 lines. I did that assignment and posted
it on this blog (below).
The real Gorky painting?
Friday, January 22, 2010
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
NAKED IS ONE CONSIDERATION UNDER MOONLIGHT
It’s not the answer I was looking for. Next wonder.
Dreamscape tool and die, plush living standards. Now I
Will ask you to take off your party gown and cover
The trees. They’ve been wanting your breath so bad.
I walked here from Milwaukee.
On the seventeenth day
I came to listen and found—you’ve been there—this
Fountain with its tentacles of lightning and the
Arbitrary Anglican church services.
I felt lightheaded. I took the blood—I like such categories—
Inside a capsule and felt like I was glowing
With God’s DNA. Next town
Over the window opens and the window shuts.
The girls are sleepy and the strawberries remain
Untouched on the bedside tables
And I can tell by the way you are open and dry,
The smell of straw and pine bark on you, dry ice
Steaming in the gravel road, that this is a time for celebration.
It’s not the answer I was looking for. Next wonder.
Dreamscape tool and die, plush living standards. Now I
Will ask you to take off your party gown and cover
The trees. They’ve been wanting your breath so bad.
I walked here from Milwaukee.
On the seventeenth day
I came to listen and found—you’ve been there—this
Fountain with its tentacles of lightning and the
Arbitrary Anglican church services.
I felt lightheaded. I took the blood—I like such categories—
Inside a capsule and felt like I was glowing
With God’s DNA. Next town
Over the window opens and the window shuts.
The girls are sleepy and the strawberries remain
Untouched on the bedside tables
And I can tell by the way you are open and dry,
The smell of straw and pine bark on you, dry ice
Steaming in the gravel road, that this is a time for celebration.
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