This is the campus bookstore here at Dominican University. Just kidding. It is the building in which the bookstore is housed. It is an incredible building, don’t you think? Look at this beautiful thing. I don’t know what happens in this building, but I took a picture of it. And then I went upContinue reading “Dispatches from Writer’s Camp: More Songs about Buildings, Food, Flora, Courses, Lectures, Panels, Endings”
Author Archives: michaeljarmer
Dispatches from Writer’s Camp: Last Night’s Reading, Short Stay Alumni Converge, More Talk About Secret Agents, and Voices Inside Our Heads
This title pretty much says it all. I think my work is done here. Perhaps I can begin with the stuff left unfinished or uncovered by my title’s verbosity. We had a lovely little meditation experience this morning sandwiched between two readings of Stafford’s “Ask Me.” Some time when the river is ice ask me/mistakesContinue reading “Dispatches from Writer’s Camp: Last Night’s Reading, Short Stay Alumni Converge, More Talk About Secret Agents, and Voices Inside Our Heads”
Dispatches from Writer’s Camp: Generative Muscles
I began this blog post on the first full day of Writer’s Camp surrounded by writers in a quick half an hour session of generative writing practice–the large group version of what fellow camper Lauren Yaffe calls a writing buddy system: two or three or more people sit down in a room or at aContinue reading “Dispatches from Writer’s Camp: Generative Muscles”
Diary of an English Teacher in His Penultimate Year: June 12, 2018
Please excuse my absence. After 30 poems over the 30 days of April, one needs a little rest. But on top of all that, I’ve been having a transformative experience. On Sunday, May 20, I came down from the mountaintop. My hair turned white and now looks blown back by a great force of energyContinue reading “Diary of an English Teacher in His Penultimate Year: June 12, 2018”
#316: Chakras and Chi Balls (the Last Poem of April)
Some people associate a rainbow of colors with various parts of their bodies and they ascribe certain powers or characteristics of their psycho-emotional life to these various colors or energies; Some people think you can concentrate on a color, say, orange, and a body place, say, your privates, and that somehow your relationships will beContinue reading “#316: Chakras and Chi Balls (the Last Poem of April)”
#315: On the Penultimate Day of April, the English Teacher in his Penultimate Year Writes a Long Rambling Poem Inspired by Sylvia Plath’s Burst of Productivity in the Months Before She Died
I’m not going anywhere, but (having lost now both mom and dad) I notice thoughts about mortality enter the noggin with more frequency these days. I’m reading, or rather, listening to Life Reimagined, where Barbara Bradley Hagerty argues essentially that there is really no such thing as a mid-life crisis for most mid-lifers. Much of thatContinue reading “#315: On the Penultimate Day of April, the English Teacher in his Penultimate Year Writes a Long Rambling Poem Inspired by Sylvia Plath’s Burst of Productivity in the Months Before She Died”
#314: To Whom It May Concern
To Whom It May Concern Wherever You Are City, State, Zip Code Hello to Whom, I think this may concern you. I’ve been thinking about you, lately more than usual, I guess, ever since the weather turned. There’s been a disturbance. It’s been too long. That thing people say on postcards: I wish you wereContinue reading “#314: To Whom It May Concern”
#313: The World Is Too Much All Up in Here
(my advance apologies to anyone serious about this stuff, and to Wordsworth) My world card tells me that I’ve got time in my pinky, a king on my ring, twenty one flip-off capacity, death in my forefinger, and a sun up my thumb. But I’ve got the whole world, as the song says, in myContinue reading “#313: The World Is Too Much All Up in Here”
#312: Senses Working Overtime
Unseasonably warm on this 26th of April, 86° in the shade, giving new meaning to “the cruelest month” moniker, and I’m biking home from work, still in work clothes, feeling myself try to crawl out of them, the sun beating down on my back as I pedal home. It’s a short ride, but long enough.Continue reading “#312: Senses Working Overtime”
#311: Warning
Do not fold, spindle, or mutilate anything in this room. This bag is not a toy. This thing right here: do not eat. Watch your step. If symptoms persist, consult your physician. I am out of band-aids. Men below, please don’t throw. Slow children. This hand sanitizer is flammable. Think about that for a minute.Continue reading “#311: Warning”
michael jarmer 