I thought I’d share a couple poems that resulted from assignments I had to do last semester. My professor is obsessed with revision as the key to teaching writing, so she had us revise just about everything. I’m glad for it. Both of the following poems would dwell in the land of the uncreated (I suddenly feel the need to write a sci-fi fantasy about that land) otherwise:
On the Phone
1. Ten-minute June afternoon
- hail.
Steep-walled Gunnison River
- vale. 3. Thought I’d phone
Rocky Mountain high to laugh with you
- Hinsdale. But made you weep and
- wail
2. Whole day spent on hospital instead.
- bed.
Bitter-pill taste of painkiller
- med.
Breached baby faced feet before
- head.
-
On Wayne Thiebaud’s “Sunset Streets“
- What casts upon the hillsides?
- What taints the waning sky?
- Smoke from the roofs has room to rise
- The buildings aren’t that high
- But you need to step beyond their shadows
- Or you’ll never see the light.
-
-Baggervais
