Okay. So I deleted the last post because – I don’t know. It felt clunky, or something. But no matter. I enjoyed a good concert on Friday night, Edgar Meyer (bassist) and Chris Thile (Nickel Creek mandolin player.) It would probably be better to try to describe it in poetry, but maybe later. If you read the first post, you got the general idea.
The next poetry assignment is out. So, write about death or an erotic experience, 19 or 27 lines long, include the words clouds and water. The form is your choice. Two out of my three family members have expressed their opinion that death is preferable to eroticism. I love my family, but… I’m tired of writing about death and grief. So eroticism wins. Cover your eyes, plug your ears, do what you have to do.
And lastly, a side note about all the shouting on Sunday night. We live in Indiana. We are not FIPs (fine Illinois people.) Certainly you can understand where your obligations lie. Colts.
4 comments:
Hi Charmi... Deleting posts? Oh no! ...consider letting them stand as moments, maybe even as crazy, sloppy, clunky moments, beautiful in their crazy clunkiness. As for an erotic poem, I just heard Michael Martone speak last night and he read an erotic essay about a thermostat (a round honeywell thermostat)... He wrote it as a challenge to eroticize an object not usually considered erotic. I guess the big time erotic website is www.nerve.com, and they had asked him to write such an essay. Isn't that funny how our families would prefer we celebrate death than eroticism. Cheers! Bonnie
Hi Bonnie Jo. See, that's the problem with blogging, people notice if you crumple up the posts and throw them away. Paper, I must return to paper, great for starting the wood stove, keeps the utility bills down...
About the erotic/death thing, I am just amused at the choices David presents us with. He also threw out his opinion that really the two subjects are the same thing. I'm dying to see what choices the rest of the class will make. I'll probably resurrect the intention of the deleted post in my erotic poem, because for my money there are not too many things as erotic as experiencing live acoustic musicians interacting with themselves and the audience. But that's just me. I'll have to look up the themostat thing. Death be banished for another day.
I'm waiting to see a poem about any of the cemetaries you haunt. I do have to say I think of you every time I go to the library and get a baby name book. Why you ask, because cemetary searchers are the next book on the shelf, and of course because we have no boy names picked out yet. What do you think of a boy named Amelia? Hmmm, an erotic poem about an ancient cemetary.
A boy named Amelia? Hmm. How do you like it? My father-in-law and brother-in-law are both Lauri, which is a fine name in Finland for men. Laurie is the feminine.
A cemetery poem. I know David has at least one. I'll think about it. Unraveling the stories half-reveavled on the gravestones is wild and fun.
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