Thursday, April 13, 2006

Potluck List for Poetry Reading

Hey Guys!

Here is the list of stuff everyone is bring to the final reading on May 4th. If you didn't sign up or you aren't sure what you want to bring, you may want to think about bringing soda or water (we're all going to be hot and dry-mouthed from nerves!)

1. Merissa - Banana Split Cake
2. Kristyn H. - Vegetarian Taco Dip
3. Melissa - Chocolate Chip Cookies
4. Rita - Brownies
5. Cheryl - Cheese and Pepperoni
6. Amanda - Oreo Cookie Pie
7. Crystal - Ziti Casserole
8. Nicole - Garbage Bread
9. Erica - Chips and Salsa
10. Amie - Soda and Cups
11. Kristin T. - Cupcakes
12. Aliya - Cheese Dip
13. Canaan - Guacamole
14. Patty - Bread Dip
15. James - Drinks
16. Amber - Fruit and Fruit Dip

Banana Hammock Handwasher

Tip Toast hard nut crack. Black

Iguana Moon & the Banana Hammocks Ben Harper Meat Puppets

Tupac, Chopin, Princess Consuela Banana

Hammock Fast Eddie; Costa Rica- tail monkey's

presence Rapid Request Relaxin' Camarillo Monkey Banana

Request this song ...The Social Music

Revolution and Miles Davis

Lying in Joller's hammock stifling

Dear Catstrophe nutjob Melt-Banana

Craigslist leather is sticking mightily

to my banana hammock and chafing my

died of a massive coronary. ...

championhandwasher.blogspot.com

Steve's Zone of Love...

I rubbed my hand against Charlie's face on the jukebox. ...

Jazz At Massey Hall Similar Bobby Woodlen --

Trumpet; OnlineElephantman -- April In Paris


--the class Flarf poem

Hwk for Thursday 4/20

Bring a printed out copy of an original poem on anything

guidelines for Poem:

-10 lines
-number of words per line in this order:
3
2
3
2
4
7
2
3
2
3

Close reading: William Carlos Williams' "To Elsie."



To make two bold statements: There's nothing sentimental about a machine, and: A poem is a small (or large) machine made out of words. When I say there's nothing sentimental about a poem, I mean that there can be no part that is redundant.--William Carlos Williams

The Academy of American Poets has a link to Williams reading this poem here.

Franz Wright resources.



Poetry:
Poem: "When You See Fame Coming Run"
Poem: "Empty Stage"
From Poetry Daily: "Woods Hole Ferry."
Three poems on the journal Slope.
Four poems on Typo Magazine.

Prose:
An essay about Wright in BoldType by Ernest Hilbert.
Entry at the Academy of American Poets website (with other links on the left-hand column).
A piece on National Public Radio's Weekend Edition.
Another radio piece on NPR's The Connection.
Jordan Davis reviews one of his books, the Pulitzer Prize-winning Walking to Martha's Vineyard, at Constant Critic.
Some Wright-related controversies brewing here and here.

Sunday, April 09, 2006

This is poetry.

Somewhere I love to go is to the beach.

I love to go to Saugerties because I get to go for a walk in the woods.

Somewhere I love to go at the end of the day is home to where my loved ones are.

Somewhere I love to go is to the mall.

I love to go to Rochester because you are there.

Somewhere I love to go is the beach.

I hate to go to my urologist because he sticks his finder in places that make me dizzy.

I love to go to CPMS because I get to see Paris.

Somewhere I go every day is to the bathroom.

Somewhere I go every day is deep in thought.

I love to go to Ocean City MD because that is where I'm going to move and start my life.

I love to go to the mall because it's my time for me.

I hate to go to the dentist. He always tells me there's something wrong. Now I'm going to lose my wisdom teeth and it's all I can think about. I think my teeth are FINE!

Somewhere I love to go is to sleep because it is in my dreams that the world is all mine.

I love to go to Wildwood, NJ with my family.

Somewhere I hate to go is the basement of my apartment building.

I hate to go for long drives in the car.

I love to go to the beach because you can relax and soak up all the rays you want.

I love to go tanning because it relaxes me.

I love to go to work because I get to spend time with my kids!

I loved to go to sleep with my thumb in my mouth, the cold sheet safely between my fingers. The boogie man could never get me here. And my mom would kiss me goodnight. Warning me I was getting too old to suck my thumb.

--Class poem written in-class following Kristyn H's writing prompts, April 6.

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