My 7th period class is chaos. Boys trapped in their teenage bodies don’t know how to do anything; even being human is too difficult. Listening, completely out of the question. Seriousness, a concept that doesn’t register. Respect, never heard the word before. Girls, poor things, are sadly outnumbered, know what’s up and ignore boys. They will wait,Continue reading “#169: Freshmen Boys”
Tag Archives: National Poetry Writing Month
#168: Barack Obama Speaks of Mirrors
Barack Obama Speaks of Mirrors What I see. Damn, I am handsome and my wife is beautiful and my children–exceptional. Hands down, I am the most handsome president in the history of these United States of America. I, too, am perhaps the funniest. Did you see my spiel at the White House Correspondents Dinner? Damn,Continue reading “#168: Barack Obama Speaks of Mirrors”
#167: Sir Spam A Lot (a found poem)
From time to time, believe it or not, I receive spam comments through my little blog site. They are often poorly written, sometimes hilariously so. And they remain a complete mystery to me: Where do they come from? What is their purpose? What could the originator of the message, be it a real live human orContinue reading “#167: Sir Spam A Lot (a found poem)”
#164: O Miranda
O wonder! How many goodly creatures are there here! How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world, That has such people in’t. O Miranda O Miranda, I, too, have known tempests; I, too, have been separated from a father; I, too, know the feeling of beauty, goodness, or courage creeping through a bit atContinue reading “#164: O Miranda”
#162: Emerson’s The Poet (An Erasure)
Those umpires admired pictures beautiful souls They are selfish dry wood Some study of rules limited judgement It is a proof of beauty that men seem to put into our bodies the spirit and the organ the germination
#160: About These Things There Can Be No Question
It’s April 20 and I know some things. It’s not my birthday. I know that for sure. No question. It was hot today, eighty-five degrees, clear sky and my bicycle ride home was uneventful. I know a hawk from a handsaw. I gave up my prep period today to sign exit paperwork for the ELDContinue reading “#160: About These Things There Can Be No Question”
#156: The Desire to Write a Terzanelle
The desire to write a terzanelle runs smack dab up against too much shit to do as well. I don’t want to feel incensed, about constantly fighting time, running smack dab up against the incessant daily grind and all of my complaining about constantly fighting time. The afternoon is waning and pretty soon it will be darkContinue reading “#156: The Desire to Write a Terzanelle”
#154: A Dialogue?
Student: This class sucks. It’s boring. All we do in here is read and write and talk. And I have no idea why I’m failing. I can’t find my pencil. Could I borrow a piece of paper? When can we watch a movie? Oh my god, I just got a text and I have toContinue reading “#154: A Dialogue?”
#151: Mistakes Are Made
Publishing on the fly is like this: I make premature postings, find typographical errors, inappropriate emoji, or worse, one or two times I’ve accidentally liked myself. While attempting a poem with my phone, mistakes are made and become immediately public– my dumb ass on display for the whole world, or, at least, the tiny fraction of it that’s actuallyContinue reading “#151: Mistakes Are Made”
#149: Unspeakable
Unspeakable I’m trying to find words to describe how I feel when, during a reading from Elie Wiesel’s Night, I look up and see students looking at their phones. One student, in particular, looks at me, and without irony, without hesitation, and without, I would say, consciousness, says, as if it were a legitimate explanation, that sheContinue reading “#149: Unspeakable”
michael jarmer 