I attended a writing workshop last weekend taught by the Oregon Poet Laureate Emeritus Paulann Petersen where I was asked to participate in a generative process very much unlike the process I am used to in my own creative work. It was a very particular kind of brainstorm activity she called “priming.” Now, as aContinue reading “#278: When I Was Away, Before I Was Born, I Have Never Been”
Category Archives: Writing and Reading
#257: What’s Hidden In This Poem
I have poet friends who hate poems about writing poetry and I think that’s all right, they can go ahead and hate that, but poets will continue to write poems about writing poetry until the cows come home and even after the cows come home because cows don’t give a shit, I mean they understand thatContinue reading “#257: What’s Hidden In This Poem”
#245: The First Poem Written at the End of Spring Break
Here we go, full steam ahead, into my fourth consecutive year of celebrating National Poetry Month by writing a poem on every single day of April. If you are new to these parts, you might be wondering about the number in the title, in this particular case, #245. I’ve participated so far in three years of napowrimoContinue reading “#245: The First Poem Written at the End of Spring Break”
Rage, Rage Against the Dying of the Light
Last year, I remember talking in my classroom about the terrible news, the deaths of two British cultural icons, both personal heroes of mine, David Bowie and Alan Rickman, both dead at 69. And from that discussion, this has remained in my memory: a student actually said these words to me, “So you’ve got about twentyContinue reading “Rage, Rage Against the Dying of the Light”
#243: A Poem Composed on a Word Processor about Writing by Hand
I read recently that handwriting is better for the brain than typing, what we call in this information age “word processing.” It’s better, handwriting, because the task is more physical, therefore more complex, therefore more memorable, theref more meaningful. Did you notice how I truncated “therefore” on purpose so that I could end the lineContinue reading “#243: A Poem Composed on a Word Processor about Writing by Hand”
#234: On Rereading a Clean Copy of Beloved
My classroom copy is copiously marked in three or four colors of highlighter and underlined and bracketed and annotated with pen and pencil seven different ways to Sunday. I’ve read and reread and reread this novel perhaps eight or nine times now, but this time I choose a clean, elegant copy over my raggedy-ass classroom copyContinue reading “#234: On Rereading a Clean Copy of Beloved”
#228: On the Day After the Election
Having wept myself to sleep the night before, I got up and went to work in the school house where we met in small teams in the library to plan or do curriculum work or talk about assessments, where instead I chose to color with crayons at the table our new librarian set up forContinue reading “#228: On the Day After the Election”
On Reading An Unpublished Novel I Finished 15 Years Ago
The novel has been sitting in a box, both a real box on my desk and a virtual box on my hard drive. I miss it. I finished it some fifteen years ago, having labored over it throughout the preceding five or six years. I have fond memories of its composition and of the wayContinue reading “On Reading An Unpublished Novel I Finished 15 Years Ago”
A Single Dispatch from Writer’s Camp on the 40th Anniversary of the MFA Program for Writers at Warren Wilson College
First of all, I was sick with a cold when at 10:30 pm I boarded the plane for a red-eye from Portland to Atlanta, a nearly five hour flight through most of which I would be sneezing and blowing and stuffing kleenex into my own private trash bag that I kept discreetly stuffed into theContinue reading “A Single Dispatch from Writer’s Camp on the 40th Anniversary of the MFA Program for Writers at Warren Wilson College”
#225: On Writing Poetry in a Sports Bar
It’s the Lou Rawls they’re playing, which at first I mistake for Barry White, Lou Rawls and the rain, perhaps, that entices me to stay inside, ignoring the 47 inch screens lining every wall, muted today for Lou Rawls, the pinball machines, sports of all sorts, tennis of all sorts, grooving to “you’re gonna miss myContinue reading “#225: On Writing Poetry in a Sports Bar”
michael jarmer 