I called the studes "rock stars" today, as in, Okay, my rock stars. Give me your attention up here.
Some days they're peeps, some days rock stars. I'll work my way up to precious angels before December fifth.
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This song has made me happy for nearly a month now.
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Dog tummies do not like Indian food. Got it.
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There was frost on the windshield this morning. I couldn't get the defroster to work. Have I really forgotten how to defrost a windshield? Or was it just my brain refusing to acknowledge that another month will bring snow?
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I'm ignoring a stack of student writing for the second night in a row. I should really do ten tonight. Just ten.
I don't want to do ten. I want to crawl into my bed with Gourmet and tell myself I'll get up early tomorrow.
It won't happen.
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This weekend we went to the beach and the water was cold. The sand was cold. I've never been on a cold beach before. Only seen it in the movies.
In three months, it will look like this: beautiful, but scary.
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Buffalo's still on my mind. This will be the second weekend this month on the road to Wisconsin--but thinking of the East.
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Tonight I stepped out with the dog and saw a possum on the roof. The dog didn't. The possum froze, then moved slowly--silently. Pink nose and gray body disappeared up a tree without a sound.
The dog saw, smelled, heard nothing.
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The ten won't be done.
I like the fragments.
ReplyDeleteHm. I've been thinking about poems lately and how I'm not writing them. Not inspired. So, maybe you can just expect me to send you the assignments instead, and I will read them.
...I don't have one right now; I'm just saying. Although if you wrote a poem where the first word was "frost," that'd be killer.
Or a poem called "ifeekfe" since that's our word verification.
Yeah, fragments = complete thoughts not possible.
ReplyDeleteTake the semester off from poems and focus on teaching--that's my plan. In the meantime, write fragments. Read a lot. Go running.
Mary Biddinger has a post on not writing. I read it yesterday and found it pretty appropriate.
Hey, what about 2-line poems? I think I forgot about that grand idea.
ReplyDeleteword verification: "trussni"
Yeah! What DID happen to two-line poems? Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm?
ReplyDeleteWait till the waves crash up
ReplyDeleteand over onto ice.
Not very good, but it's two lines. Seriously, though, if you're looking for beautiful and scary, the churning ice at the shore of a Great Lake is pretty hard to beat. Don't walk out too far onto the ice - if you slip into the breakers, there is absolutely no way back up, unless you've thought to bring ice picks with you.