Monday, January 27, 2014

Influence

Finished planning my class for tomorrow not too long ago. Since my theme for the course is "horror," I've decided that I'm going to spend a small portion of each class recommending something horror-related to them--books, movies, songs, etc. Tomorrow I'm introducing them to Welcome to Night Vale because I AM ALSO GOING TO SEE THE LIVE NIGHT VALE SHOW IN VEGAS TOMORROW!!!!!

!

I'm just a little excited. It's okay.

I have to go running. Actually excited about it; I've been feeling rather lethargic this past weekend. This evening I have my first Poetry Forms class. I hope that goes well. I'm not at all well-read when it comes to poetry, so between Poetry Forms and Poetry Workshop, I'm afraid I'm going to spend the majority of the semester feeling awfully stupid. Oh well. Everybody has to start somewhere.

Hey poetry friends--if you're reading this, would you mind doing me a favor? As I'm sure you've noticed, I've been writing poems on this blog all month for practice. I've written most of them quickly, and have not given them enough thought as I probably should. The real problem is that I can't figure out whether any of them (or any part of them) are good. I'm confident when it comes to editing my own prose, and when reading other people's poetry, I can usually at least tell when something is really bad. When it comes to my own poetry, however, I am lost. I'm not asking you for tons of feedback by any means, but if you notice something that's relatively good, can you mention it so that I can keep it in mind when I'm writing for workshop? Also, if something is particularly bad, please tell me that, too, so I can avoid it.

Pretentious is the perfect word to describe how I feel when I write poetry. It was made for this situation. When I write poetry, I feel as though I am pretending to possess knowledge and skill that I do not actually have. On the other hand, you can't develop skill without practicing.

On that note, today's poems. The first poem was inspired by the curly line I drew to separate entries in my journal:

Speak to Me

I do not remember
my home
ever having a curly-wired
telephone.

Even when I was
small
the human connection was
not at all

connected.

wireless
touchless
hands-free
skin-free

The paradox of
virtual
reality is forever
ritual.

For the second poem, I took several bullet points about "active reading" from the textbook my students use and rearranged them:

Guidelines for Active Reading

Become before reading.
Title what you understand
part of--
keep your purpose
further on.

The audience is coming,
reading a writer's
journal.

Reflect a reading.
Concentrate.
Annotate as read
in--

Predict.

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