Monday, May 10, 2010

Beaver, Cat, Clam


Think of it as a small
tender beast. With large
deformed paws. With a razor-
wire necklace. Think of it
as your mother once she's
drunk, when she has forgotten
her second language and can
only swear at you in Russian.
Think of it as a cop
on a Segueway, as a cop on a
Segueway in shorts. Think
of it as an attractive sky,
blasting in your face. With
the moon, sun and stars all
jangling at once. Think of it
as the pink and black sow
you bit at the petting zoo
when you were five. Think of it
with hooves, with hands.
Think of it as the mouth
of an old Mamacita after
she's removed her teeth
for the night. With the scent
of her last whiskey-rich coffee.
Think of it as a drowned girl,
long hair covering her face,
by the side of the pool. Think
of it as her lips, her throat
with your breath inside, your
breath, your breath. Think
of her coughing once, waking
up with her hand on the back
of your head.

8 comments:

Billy said...

vivid piece. ya imagination is unhindered.

Matt D said...

Very powerful. Incredible images.

fceballo808_831 said...

rewrite from work shop
It is not rough when my lips touch
it. It is not unpleasent when i
kiss it. To feel, to hear: you
moan in ectasy when i blow a gental
brease at it. You yell. Scream. Moan. Grown.
When i nip at it. The smell brings me to a place I
had forgotten. Just thinking about
it makes me want it, now! Make it mine
and allow you to return the favor

janar19 said...

Cake, Apple, Bubble
It comes in different sizes
Definantly in different colors
Can be used on many things
And many other purpose
It can be covered by colorful things
Yet it doesnt really have too
You can slap it, grab it, pinch it
But jus dont hurt it
Guys show it for jokes but
Not the girls tho
They show it off in many ways
Not like a guy can
Its every where
Magazines, TV, cars
It can be a nice view
When its a good lookking one.

Kara Lyman-Singleton said...

Thnks for the workshop in Maria Teutsch's class here are the rewrites that I did in class.
Kara Lyman-Singleton

Looking Over Painted Daisies

Not as far as you can see
But close by high above the place where butterflies kiss,
Where furrows grow nothing but distressing weeds,
That I pull to make room for the painted daisies.
I am perched high on a hill to observe the emotional ocean's sentiments.
Not as far as you can see,
I’m displaced in grease pencils
That shaky artists hands smudge along a canvas stretched too tight.
Uneven scars of neglect covered in staples and scabs
Peel open and reveal tangled roots of beauty.


Peacocks

On the Drive shopping is a sport. The endurance it takes to walk in four inch heels with your hair slicked to one side like it was painted on in yellow plastic takes practice and perseverance. I asked a young woman, who looked rather slant eyed because her ponytail was too tight, what she thought it took to be able to do the drive every day like she did. She replied, “ You need your paint on straight. If your paint isn’t on straight your off balance and walking in four inch heels would become a painful experience. When I’m in balance, perfectly painted, I can shop for three days only stopping for an Evian and a slice of sushi roll every twenty four hours. “And the packages,” I ask, “what is the key to balancing all those packages from a three day shopping trip.” “Oh! I never carry my own packages,” She screeched. “I always leave that kind of work to the less beautiful help.”

Kara Lyman-Singleton said...

Christine Hamm workshop poetry

Looking Over Painted Daisies

Not as far as you can see
But close by high above the place where butterflies kiss,
Where furrows grow nothing but distressing weeds,
That I pull to make room for the painted daisies.
I am perched high on a hill to observe the emotional ocean's sentiments.
Not as far as you can see,
I’m displaced in grease pencils
That shaky artists hands smudge along a canvas stretched too tight.
Uneven scars of neglect covered in staples and scabs
Peel open and reveal tangled roots of beauty.










Peacocks

On the Drive shopping is a sport. The endurance it takes to walk in four inch heels with your hair slicked to one side like it was painted on in yellow plastic takes practice and perseverance. I asked a young woman, who looked rather slant eyed because her ponytail was too tight, what she thought it took to be able to do the drive every day like she did. She replied, “ You need your paint on straight. If your paint isn’t on straight your off balance and walking in four inch heels would become a painful experience. When I’m in balance, perfectly painted, I can shop for three days only stopping for an Evian and a slice of sushi roll every twenty four hours. “And the packages,” I ask, “what is the key to balancing all those packages from a three day shopping trip.” “Oh! I never carry my own packages,” She screeched. “I always leave that kind of work to the less beautiful help.”

Jcopas said...

Jeannette Copas

work shop poem
decorate them, oh how they shine.
How I wish they were not mine.
To think of them makes me want to hurl,
yet they are painted a pretty pink pearl!
Hovering over them like a 'copter in the war,
Oh God how I want them to be here no more.
Jordan's, sketchers, LA Gear, Nike.
Touching and feeling them is so unlike me.
Not like I can live without them near,
because without them, I would look like I just drank a keg of beer.
Not priceless, or expensive are they,
but not having them would've made me skip class today!

Gabby said...

work shop rewrite:

“Ballerinas”
Ten ballerinas dance gracefully
Over the black and white floor
Their movement is swift
Their limber bodies stretch
Reaching the highest highs
Reaching the lowest lows
They pulse with the melodic tone
Somber but true
They sway to the beat inside them
Not on their own accord
Like a puppet – no control
They fight the pounding beat
They will surrender to its crushing melody