Word Play

Mar. 20th, 2011 02:09 pm
create_destiny: (Default)

I am hypersensitive lunar extractions breathing nervous pebbles.
I am coiled orbits spiraling in a heartsick terrain.
I am not harboring pent up pangs of pinging pink pinnacles.

I love coral mistakes conceived in a cosmic sea of magnetized mollusks.
I hate digging dirges and wallowing in horse quartz.
I come from phosphorescent sky murmurs, sacred circles suspended in space-grace.

I remember cherishing bliss in vast woven zones.
I forget clotted expressions of tangled parachutes conceiving bamboo in botched buckets of blame.

My heart says velvety vistas sistered up the sun while curious harps spooned beneath borrowed buttons.
My mind says sync up, butter dove, the elf owl is emperor now.
The moon says meet me in the kaleidoscopic dimensions of yes near Hallelujah Junction.
The river says semi-succulent dagger yuccas are smuggling horse crippler tonight.

Come back to me Tripoli, tuffed upthrows of arroyos.
I can't give you up saw-toothed suffering, lost box of barbed hoarfrost.

Read about the poetry writing workshop I attended )


Aug. 13th, 2008 09:20 pm
create_destiny: (Default)
My sister’s beeswax hair is everywhere now
it bounces and sings
in the spun color of memory
on the lemonade bedspread
a blur of dandelion crowns
and butterfly bonnets

It twirls and curls
on the sun-soaked porch
in the cream corn linen
in the isotopes of hope cake
where tiger-lily tabbies make biscuits
     til the spontaneous day breaks

It dances with fairies in the saffron wind
in the clatter of white rain
in the sleepy spoon swimming pool
in the harmony of yew wood
under the West Main Street sycamore trees
and helicopter promise seeds
     glittering in the sun

After Howl

Sep. 4th, 2006 11:14 pm
create_destiny: (sunshine)

Read Allen Ginsberg's poem, "Howl."

Write a rant, (your own version of "Howl"). Be as rhetorical as you like, get up on your soapbox and scream. Use repetition and striking imagery.


I can't do soapboxes anymore )
create_destiny: (sunshine)
Assignment: Imagine a room in your family of origin's home. Choose one or two fixtures in that room that metaphorically speak to the energy or the feelings you had as a child or adult in that home. Pay attention to images and language. Be as concise as you can.


Fat wooden Buddha
pudgy arms reaching up for the sky
giddy with joy next to our small black and white t.v.
in the 1970s

We flicked paper triangles at you
aiming just above your round, bald head
and between your stubby arms
you looked like you'd say, "Touchdown!"

We wrapped you in dish towels
and rocked you to sleep in the rocking chair
night-night, touchdown Buddha
sleep tight, touchdown Buddha

We rubbed your bare belly and made ludicrous wishes
a million dollars
to be invisible
to have all the candy bars in the world!

We'd sneak you into Nativity scenes
where you towered like an absurd Godzilla
we'd knock down Joseph and the wise men while Mary screamed

We stuck a Cheerio in your grin and hid behind the couch
stifling giggles and spurts of urine, anticipating Dad's reaction
(we had to help him notice)
we hoped he wouldn't be mad
but he grinned and picked the cereal out of your mouth

Over the years, through rough-housing and temper-flares
you endured numerous gouges and bore many scars
you lost both your hands but still shine with inexplicable joy
exclaiming to the world, "Touchdown!"


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