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My Poetry and Commentary on Life

  • This Writer’s Beginnings: EarlyYears
  • Bread Loaf Influence
  • Rock and Roll High School
  • About

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  • Embroidery

    by

    acceptance, family, language, life, meaning, poetry


    She wove words upon us
    Webs spun between trees
    Let me tell you
    Your father was so
    Just wait, you’ll see
    Constant talk
    Constant stories
    To teach
    Inform
    Warn
    Control
    At the end
    She troubled threads
    Bits of broken nets
    Tell me something
    Where are the kids
    Who was that
    Then memory let go of time
    Her uncle’s state hospital
    Became her hospice
    Her age fell into flux
    Her voice unraveled
    Be sweet
    I love you
    Come back


    (September 2011)

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  • Her Hands

    by

    conversation, life, meaning, poetry, romance, sonnets

    Butterfly wings flutter
    Through conversation
    Alight briefly
    A probiscus touch
    Upon the pages
    Of her book
    The table
    His shoulder

    Delicate fingers trace
    Thoughts through air
    Twist a strand of hair
    A casual distraction
    Like a butterfly
    Daring him not to care

    (September 2011)

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  • I Saw a Future at 3 AM

    by

    existential angst, poetry


                          to edward hopper and neil young
    At twenty-three I saw him
    Through two louvered windows
    An alley between us
    Maybe fifteen feet distance
    I stood in the dark, invisible
    Looking out my window
    Sipping coffee blankly
    Ready for work
    Lisa still asleep
    In the next room
    In his window
    A closet light glowed
    Behind a thin old man
    Sitting on the edge
    Of his bed in boxers
    Staring at a wall
    Alone
    (September 2011)

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  • In Passing

    by

    hope, life, love, poetry, romance, sonnets

    When tense
    It calms;
    When calm
    It excites.

    Each time
    I want more;
    Each time
    Is not enough.

    Your hand
    On my arm;
    Your hand
    On my skin.

    Touch me
    Again forever.

    (September 2011)

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  • On Fashioning a Fetishistic Totem

    by

    creativity, language, metaphor, middle-age, paradigm shifts, paradigms, poetry, storytelling, ways of knowing

    An object
    Any will do
    Preferably
    Parallel
    To the person
    Upon which
    Your obsession
    Is fixed

    But purely
    Disconnected
    Except through
    An association
    Known only
    To you
    Will do
    As well

    The projection
    On your part
    What you will
    Upon the subject
    becomes for you
    The world
    To widen
    To welcome

    Be wary
    The words
    You say
    To yourself
    Will be
    The way
    You believe
    Despite yourself

    Speak softly
    Succinctly
    Each sound
    Sends echoes
    Locating
    Both you
    And your
    desire

    (September 2011)

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  • Reality Check

    by

    acceptance, existential angst, hope, life, poetry

    Where do we go from here?

    An implied past purpose,
    As if here arrived
    On schedule
    Riding in a pumpkin coach.

    A more pressing question
    Presents itself in opposition
    To these futuristic obsessions:

    How did we get here?

    What circuitous route
    Turned our wheel
    To this position:
    A yes, a no,
    A drive to believe
    In the righteousness of our response;

    Or tied to the rack
    Our balance wanes
    Into a renewed spin,
    Until our lives rattle like a ball
    Dancing from one allotted
    Slot to another never quite
    Coming to rest before being
    Snatched up and tossed again.

    (September 2011)

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  • The Long Heat

    by

    poetry, summer

    In the garden the cat pauses
    to lick the dew from her paws.
    In morning the day is still forgiven.

    Night’s chill lingers in the grass.
    A dove dips water from St. Francis’ feet
    before vanishing between hackberry leaves.

    Like hens protecting chicks from a hawk,
    Oaks pull back their shadows;
    the sun circles the empty sky.

    The cat ignores the mockingbird
    chattering from a fence post.
    Sunflowers umbrella her like saints.

    Later the air hides beneath hawthorne.
    The basil bends its head to the ground.
    Only a butterfly struggles across the yard.

    Rising from beneath the deck, the cat
    stretches before slipping into the house.
    The grass continues its crisp watch.

    By midnight the air breathes again;
    the sidewalks glow like morning beds
    still holding our shape’s warmth.

    (Breadloaf, Vermont Summer 1990)

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  • to Erato with love, of course

    by

    creativity, life, literature, love, metaphor, poetry, romance, sonnets, writing

    I find it amusing to watch in awe
    All of your sundry manifestations
    As they blossom in waves around your mind

    The way you dance your delight with laughter
    Across the room into my silent life
    Sparks my mind like dry leaves off a bonfire

    Your hand upon my shoulder in passing
    Pushes all my random thoughts instantly
    Onto the focused clarity of you

    Your presence inscribes my heart with desire
    To pour forth like a bottecelli spring
    A voiceless plea to beg on bended knee

    For the chance to tell you that I want you
    To give me words to sing into your mouth

    (August 2011)

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  • Prime Mover

    by

    community, hope, meaning, poetry, ways of knowing

    As a child in a movie theater
    The projectionist would stream light
    Through the smoke and dark
    Twitching the thin beams like fingers
    Nervously tapping a chair’s arm

    I would tilt back, watch the strands
    Above my head dance across the room
    Tracing with light a story upon the screen

    I would try to catch the coordination
    Between the light’s slight shift
    With what was happening on the screen
    Searching through the dark for the cause
    Of the events unfolding around us
    As we sat transfixed, waiting.

    (Note: smoking was allowed in theaters when I was a child)

    (August 2011)

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  • Imaging the Other

    by

    existential angst, irony, life, poetry

    When fixated upon a mirror
    All he sees is himself
    Reversed

    (august 2011)

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  • A Test

    by

    education, life, meaning, metaphor, politics, school work, social construction, ways of knowing

    the color of truth
    so ingrained in the wood
    of our lives the christian
    clergy still wear it

    black and white
    an obvious demarcation
    a quick sidestep dance
    between yes and no

    this and not this
    as if words could be
    milled to such precision
    filed within a dust of difference

    true not true
    one goes forward
    to make better lives
    we are told

    ever vigilant for normalcy
    the other’s tossed
    quietly onto a pile
    a simple quality control

    where no deviation dwells
    where no heresy is spoken
    no tired eyes from sleepless nights
    no worry about the wife’s cough

    or where dinner will come from tonight
    nothing to stop the winnowing’s purity
    everything’s perfectly replicable
    all here in black and white

    (August 2011)

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  • Sustained Silent Reading Why and How: Common Sense, Not Common Practice

    by

    acceptance, curriculum, doc stuff, education, essay, Language and Literacy

    We keep saying that Johnny can’t read because he’s deprived, because he’s hungry, because he’s discriminated against. We say that Johnny can’t read because his daddy is not in the home. Well, Johnny learns to play basketball without daddy. We do best what we do most, and for many of our children that is playing ball. One of the reasons Johnny does not read well is that Johnny doesn’t practice reading (Reverend Jesse Jackson quoted in Raspberry, 1976 as cited in Thurlow 1984 p.267)

    I used to feel that I had to explain the way I teach to people. Sometimes I still feel that way. Fellow teachers in the copy room will ask by way of making conversation, “So, what book are your students reading now?” I used to try to explain how all my students were reading different books; so I really couldn’t tell them off the top of my head why my students were reading. Then because of the way they would look at me, I would feel like I was an incompetent teacher. I could see the thoughts running through their heads: he doesn’t know what they are doing in his class; or worse, he doesn’t do anything in his class. So I felt the need to explain in detail how all of my students chose the books they read, that those books then became the “text” book from which they worked out the reading skills required by the TEKS, that I really did keep track of every book the kids were reading, all 150, and yes, I could tell if they were actually reading the book without giving them a scantron test. And best of all, the students read two books each six weeks. Eventually I just settled on saying, “No, we aren’t reading anything together right now.” Which was true in a way.

    We read together all the time, just not the same book. One day a couple of months into the first year I moved to high school after teaching for 15 years in the middle school, my students were reading their books silently. Some were sitting at their desks, others were lying on bean bags, and about four of them were encamped in the hall on the floor. I sat in the doorway on the floor, so I could see both the kids in the hall and the ones in my room. I was reading whatever I was reading at the time. The students knew if they had a question that I would see them and come to them, or they would just come over to where I was reading and talk quietly to me. A history teacher on conference period walked down the hall, saw my students reading in the hall, saw me reading in the doorway and said, “I wish I could just sit and read during class and do nothing.” She walked on, my students erupted, indignation flowing from them like lava roiling across Pompeii. It took me several minutes and a cooling smart-assed comment directed by me toward the history teacher to return my students to a more stable state of being. They were pissed because she assumed we were doing nothing, because they were reading silently to themselves. Reading is one of the two main purposes in my class, the other is writing. They were doing something. For some of them it was one of the hardest things they had ever done in English class: read a book.

    At that point in the year, and still around the end of the first six weeks every year, a student, sometimes more than one, will end their first book talk with me by confessing that the book they had just finished was the first book they had read since middle school or the first book they had ever finished. They tell me this with pride. Not that they had managed to pull the wool over their former teacher’s eyes, but with pride that they had finished a book, and they liked it. There is something wrong with that picture. Seniors in high school, all seniors in high school, should have finished a book, and what’s more, one that they enjoyed reading. I am not blaming the students for this lack, but the way we teach reading.

    It all seems so simple, in a head-slapping-duh simplicity. In order to read better one must read; it is an activity that improves with the doing. For years I have been instinctively following this guideline in my classroom without any documented research to prove what I was doing had any validity. It just made sense to me. Yet, the teacher down the hall had the same gut feeling that what she was doing was just as correct. For years I had followed the same kind of teaching. I had built elaborate units with interconnected writing assignments and projects; however, it did not seem right to me to say my students were reading when what they were doing was listening to me read to them and mechanically constructing essays that I had come up with for them to formulaically follow.

    Most of the “reading” time in my class, now, is spent in Sustained Silent Reading, where the students read from self-selected texts. I have been frowned upon for wasting time in class instead of teaching. So being fairly pig-headed about most things, a few years ago, I did a bit of reading on the effects of reading silently in class from self-selected texts for a literature review for a doctoral class on the teaching of reading. I found quite a lot to show that my gut feeling was not just my nervousness about not doing what everyone else was doing down the hall. It was the right thing to do.

    Bibliography for Lit Review

    Armbruster, Bonnie B., Wilkinson, Ian, A.G. Silent Reading, Oral Reading, and Learning From Text, The Reading teacher vol. 45, no. 2 October 1991.

    Cunningham, Ann E., and Stanovich, Keith E., What Reading Does for the Mind, American Educator, Spring/Summer 1998 pp.1-8.

    Fisher, Douglas. Setting the “opportunity to read” Standard: Resuscitation the SSR program in an Urban High School, Journal of Adolescent and Adult Literacy, 48:2 October 2004 pp. 138-150.

    Hunt, Lyman C., The Effect of Self-Selection, interest, and motivation upon independent, instructional, and Frustrational Levels, The Reading Teacher, Vol. 50, No.4 December 1996/January 1997 pp.278-282.

    Parr, Judy M. and Maguiness, Colleen. Removing the silent form SSR:Voluntary reading as Social Practice, Journal of Adolescent and Adult Literacy 48:2, October 2005 pp.98-107.

    McCallum, R. Steve, Sharp, Shannon, Bell, Sherry Mee, and George, Thomas. Silent Versus Oral Reading Comprehension and Efficiency, Psychology in the Schools, Vol.41 (2), 2004.

    Methe, Scott A., and Hintze, John M., Evaluating Teacher Modeling as a Strategy to Increase Student Reading Behavior, School Psychology Review, 2003, volume 32, No. 4 pp. 617-623.

    Olen, S.I.I., Machet, M.P Research Project to Determine the Effect of Free Voluntary Reading on Comprehension, South African Journal of Library & Information Science, 02568861, Jun97, Vol. 65, Issue 2.

    Swalm, James E., A Comparison of Oral Reading, silent Reading and Listening comprehension, Education p.111-115.

    Thurlow, Martha, Graden, Janet, Ysseldyke, James E., Algozzine, Robert. Student Reading During Reading Class: The Lost Activity in Reading Instruction, Journal of Educational Research, May/June 1984 (Vol. 77 (no.5) pp267-272.

    (August 2011)

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  • The Danger of Talk

    by

    communication, life, metaphor, poetry, social construction

    With my blunt tongue
    I bludgeon the flesh from my bones

    Shhhh listen

    Blood slips away in silence

    (august 2011)

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  • Creeper

    by

    communication, conversation, existential angst, meaning, poetry, sonnets

    “So they sang in sweet utterance
    and the heart within me
    desired to listen”
    -Homer, The Odyssey, Book 12

    He listened to the bits of residual conversation
    He could remember and reshape like wax to his ear

    When he spoke to her now how could he be certain
    That what he said mimicked what she heard
    The words seemed to move with such easy exchange

    Within his assumption of mutual understanding
    Her non sequiturs translated his heart
    As if all she said danced only his dreams

    Yet most of what he heard were only his echoes
    Projections of light and shadow upon silence
    A rehearsed monologue ignorant of its irony

    And to follow that call that hope of consummation
    Would be to fall broken into jagged rocks
    Desire’s flesh hanging mute on each of their bones

    (August 2011)

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  • Geometry

    by

    irony, life, meaning, poetry, social construction, sonnets, storytelling, writing

    He has this plan this projection
    It fans out before him like dominoes
    If he can just align the right conversation
    Angle in that phrase at the acute point
    At which he will shine in the reflected
    Light of that one specific person’s eye
    Then he will prove to himself like truth
    Tables that a equals b equals c

    Yet narratives never unfold like origami
    Back into a perfectly square explanation
    Lives are lived in spastic exaltations
    Random ricochets like billiard balls
    Or ions through the thermosphere
    Dancing the borealis across the sky

    (July 2011)

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