Journal 6

Prompt 3:

Daddy used to be my hero
Daddy used to swing me on the swings
Daddy used to let me go as high as I could
Daddy used to take me out for ice cream later
Daddy used to hold my hand
Daddy used to look at me and see me

Now Daddy just sips from his bottle
Now Daddy takes naps in the afternoon
Now Daddy forgets my name
Now Daddy stumbles across the house
Now Daddy doesn’t know when I cry
Now Daddy stays in his own blurred world

Daddy used to be my hero
Now Daddy stays in his own blurred world

Journal 5

Cento

The long windows open so I can hear
that black forest and the fire in earnest.
I can see thousands of droplets
of asters, of brown fern and gold-dust.
This is how burning feels in the fall
warm, beating, frantic, winged; music and blood.
In the forest, the owl releases a boneless cry.
After all, the sky flashes, the great sea yearns,
some fluent vessel, the bronze head of a god?
I was making a fire in my hands.

(Jack Gilbert, Louise Gluck, Al Zolynas, Denise Levertov, Paul Monette, Carol Ann Duffy, Sara Eliza Johnson, John Berryman, Katha Pollitt, Gary Soto)

Journal 4

Lineated version 1:

The cows
stand under the trees in
the wet
grass, lifting their necks to pull
leaves down. We slow
the truck, pull over to the side
of the road
to watch them. How graceful
they look,
how unlike themselves. We get out
and lean
on the fence.
The cows
don’t seem to notice
we are there.

Version 2:

The cows stand under
the trees in the wet grass,
lifting their necks
to pull leaves down. We slow
the truck, pull over
to the side
of the road to watch them.
How graceful they look, how
unlike themselves.
We get out and lean
on the fence. The cows don’t
seem to notice we
are there.

Version 3:

The cows stand
under the trees
in the wet grass,
lifting their necks to
pull leaves down.
We slow the truck,
pull over to the side
of the road to watch them.
How graceful they look,
how unlike themselves.
We get out and lean
on the fence.
The cows don’t seem to notice
we are there.

Analysis:

The lineation of the passage adds a great deal to the pace of the poem. Suddenly a passage that should have taken a minute to read is taking twice as long. But I believe thats because our brains are trying to connect the sentences but also allowing new meanings to form from the separation of sentences between lines. We are trying to keep old meanings but seemingly finding new ones at the same time.
In the first version, the enjambment of lines were very severe and caused the tone of the poem to be jerky and not as flowing. The second version allowed for a little more flow and voice to enter the poem because of the longer lines. But the lines were also varied which reads differently then if they were all about the same length like the third version. That version does not look appealing at first because it is just straight forward and reads like a fact and a statement, rather than a poem. The first and second versions have more soul in them because of the movement of words, meanings, and lines. They offer variety and depth to the words, while the third just seems to be rattling off what happened in almost a monotone way.

Journal 3

Poem 1:

The calls came in all at once making the phone vibrate like it was trying to climb its way down off the table.

It seemed to never stop ringing. Sitting there I could feel the vibrations as if there was a gaping hole

forming in the ground, trying to swallow me whole.

I couldn’t answer the phone. The weight of dread sat on me as heavy  as a tree trunk that wouldn’t roll away. The realization of why they

were calling was locked away in my mind like a squirrel hides his nuts before winter. The groundhog sees its shadow in the ground,

but he does not realize what we make of it. The long winter nights that lay ahead. You are already frozen though.

Frozen like the blades of grass that crunch under my feet heading to your resting place. The gravestones paint their own shadows like the

groundhog. Except they know that winter will always stay. Now I can only feel the vibrations of the voices around me like

leaves rubbing up against each other in the wind.

Poem 2:

The calls came in all at once making the phone vibrate like it was dancing across a stage.

It seemed to never stop ringing. Sitting there I could feel the vibrations as if my bones were cracking with every sound,

breaking in places I never knew I could feel.

I couldn’t answer the phone. The weight of dread sat on me as heavy  as an elephant that sat in the middle of the room. The realization of why they

were calling was locked away in my mind like your forgotten lockbox at the bank. The groundhog sees its shadow in the ground,

but he does not realize what we make of it. The long winter nights that lay ahead. You are already frozen though.

Frozen like icicles that drape the funeral home as I’m heading toward your resting place. The gravestones paint their own shadows like the

groundhog. Except they know that winter will always stay. Now I can only feel the vibrations of the voices around me like

a jet train rushing through the station with a gush of wind.

Journal 2

Tanker scampered into the kitchen

pots and pans clanked on burners

I slid on a patch of coconut oil, losing my balance

a glob had fallen from my increasingly elongated hair

the smell was as crisp as the first bite of an apple

standing up, I hit my elbow bone on the edge

who knew such a tiny spot could cause such pain

“he’s totally into you”

I want my mother to stop bringing this up

so I started to wish that the floor would turn to waves

a dolphin peaking its head above the surface

shaking the daydream off, I grabbed the dragonfruit

whispering that this salad will be lit

without a desire

a simple dinner will never be served

does my mother even care?

placing the fresh cilantro in front of me, she takes off her gloves

the scent of wet soil follows her

disappoint falling like rain on my shoulders

I can’t stop these feelings for him

they’re wrapped like a knot of fingers holding onto

sheets, ropes, knives

keep love in your heart

steam glisten on the pots, full with bubbling water

this is not happening tonight

Journal 1: Personal Universe

Taste:  whole strawberry , mango slice, oyster, cold milk, soda carbonation, honey glazed salmon, saltwater, chicken nuggets, sourdough pretzels, sushi, citrus, coconut, gouda, greek yogurt popsicle, waffle

Touch: velvet, dog’s ear, sand, blanket, water, satin, keyboard, cold steering wheel, shell, curly hair, licked lips, chain link fence, scar, mother’s hug, dishwater

Smell: air freshener, marsh, burnt toast, wine cork, rain on asphalt, dog’s breath, pool chemical, old book, baby’s hair, orange swiffer wet jet, metal ring, sweat, face mask, chicken and dumplings, shaggy carpet

Hearing: christmas bells, ocean waves, dog snoring, broom on hardwood, slush on asphalt, fire crackling, empty house, door creak, rushing water, underwater, dinner party, story time, brushing hair, train horn, thunder crack

Sight: multicolored lights, tree against sunset, friend’s smile, wagging tail, cotton bed pillow, waterfall, dangling icicle, side streets, bright red door, snow footprint, wet hair, socked feet, abandoned house, melting ice cream, iron gate

Action/Motion: dog leash, phone charger, nike sneaker, class schedule, movie popcorn, beer glass, cardigan, steamy shower, text message, car radio

Abstractions: secret, pain, adoration

Anything else: Austria, Tanker, blue, alcohol, Bebe, hyundai sonata, Delaware

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