Writers are afraid. Almost all those whose instrument of work is language are afraid: journalists, critics, university teachers, almost all of them. Fear and lies govern their tastes and their activities. Fear of what? Fear of death by social starvation, fear of not being invited to the dominant banquet, fear of not immediately receiving a pittance of compliments, fear of not being published, of not winning prizes, of not being invited onto the greatest possible number of TV programs. Fear of not belonging to the powerful cliques that reign over institutions private and public, fear of not belonging to the inquisition clubs. Fear for their reputation, fear of not being cited in the maximum number of papers, fear of not always being congratulated, of never being congratulated, fear of being unmasked and called inferior, fear of not getting in touch with the establishment, fear of never getting a taste of power, fear of exile, of cold, of solitude, of that sever climate that follows the artist, as Joyce well knew. Fear of being honest and of this old fashioned virtue costing them very dearly indeed.

Helene Cixous, We who are free, are we free?

searching for certainty,

starting with this.

see how it ends.

a wall.

boundaries,

reinforcing

reinforcing

boundaries,

but where to punctuate?

(move your foot please,
i'd like to end where you're standing)


sifting through files

and in a soundless sorting,

a wall.

boundaries,

reinforcing

reinforcing

but where to punch-you-at?


in the midst of all this

her unheeded advice

don't overlove

it's demeaning

boundaries

reinforcing

reinforcing


i ask,

though it doesn't matter what you write here,

what if all of these years

you've been punctuating air?


but she can't hear it.

not over the

reinforcing.

reinforcing.

we scapegoat

up up

clenched fist

cheeks flushed

we scapegoat

up up

lost hope

left home

we scapegoat

up up

a regret within itself

“He who spends time regretting the past loses the present and risks the future”

I came across this today and wondered if I was the only one who thinks regretting isn't the most terrible thing in the world. I believe it is in fact healthy, proof of metacognition and growth.

Okay, I get the sentiment. Don't dwell. Make peace. Move on. Fine, I agree.

BUT

I regret decisions - the lack of decisions. I regret words - the lack of words. I understand that this thought will not fix what has happened, but I also understand that if the situation were to arise again I should say yes, I will take you to the doctor. Without hesitation.

And I wonder, if we don't regret...how will we know next time to silence our angry mouth or say goodbye to a love that is dead much much sooner rather than watching it rot into unrecognizable entities.

Regret can be heavy. But lack of regret can be too light. Find a balance I say: Regret. Evolve. Then live.

even though i'll never be able to write You

not truly

not to where it makes sense

not to where the keys stop pulling strings

everything i write, i write to You.

2010 Found Poem

I'm not who I was even just two years ago and I wish my students would see me growing along side them rather than peg me as some seemingly all-knowing hypocrite. When their agenda turns to pointing out my mistakes and when they act as if this observation has made them one up, I try to gently and patiently remind them we aren't playing that game. I am human. I bleed. I also shop at Jewel on occasion and try to enjoy a tasty cup of broccoli cheddar soup from their local Panera. I try to remember how I felt in 8th grade when I saw my teachers out of the context of their classrooms. Was it weird? Did I respond awkwardly? How about when I thought of something my teacher hadn't. Did I feel overly proud? Was I rushed with a sense of elitism?

So maybe their reactions aren't their fault. Maybe I'm operating in a system that perpetuates them. We stand; they sit. We talk; they listen. So my question is, can my philosophy hold up against the system? Will my peaceful reminders ever sink in?

It's a difficult task, this education business. 1.) To get the students on board with a perspective that they aren't used to and 2.) to actually learn something.

Wishing it were different is step one to willing it that way...now I just have to figure out step two...





*This is an assignment I give my students every year. A "Found Poem." They are asked to cut out interesting/poetic words randomly from magazines and newspapers. Afterward they are asked to arrange them meaningfully in a poem that should shape-shift before their eyes. Meaning exists within words and within our experiences with them. I want them to feel the power of the craft as they create something out of what they might consider "nothing." This is the first one I ever made...two years ago...and now I sit with these words, their meaning not quite foreign yet not at all familiar. I'm in the process of making my 2010 version. I'll keep you posted.