12.13.2009

Assignment 11: Save Two Poems for a Rainy Day

Suits

by David R. Slavitt

Each morning, as I confront my closet's array,
I have to admit again that the life I lead
is hardly good enough: I have not been named
ambassador to Malta; I am not on the board

of any college or large corporation; I shall not
receive a major prize today and pose
for photographers. Those suits, the shirts, the ties
are ready, but I am not, and the shoes are shined

as they wait for different occasions than I imagined
on the tailor's block, when I shopped for a dandified
future brighter than what I expect or deserve.
Even for weddings and funerals that require
a suit, I choose from the second best, reserving
that one for the dream into which I yet hope to awake.

"Suits" by David R. Slavitt, from William Henry Harrison and Other Poems. © Louisiana State University Press, 2006.

Nights Our House Comes to Life

by Matthew Brennan

Some nights in midwinter when the creek clogs
With ice and the spines of fir trees stiffen
Under a blank, frozen sky,
On these nights our house comes to life.
It happens when you're half asleep:
A sudden crack, a fractured dream, you bolting
Upright – but all you can hear is the clock
Your great-grandfather found in 1860
And smuggled here from Dublin for his future bride,
A being as unknown to him then as she is now
To you, a being as distant as the strangers
Who built this house, and died in this room
Some cold, still night, like tonight,
When all that was heard were the rhythmic clicks
Of a pendulum, and something, barely audible,
Moving on the dark landing of the attic stairs.

"Nights Our House Comes to Life" by Matthew Brennan, from The House with the Mansard Roof. © The Backwaters Press, 2009.

12.02.2009

Assignment 10: Find a Poem that Scares You

Vanishing Point

by Freya Manfred

The moment arrives when you say,
"I don't dislike this man,
but how did I marry him?"
Something about his wintry voice,
the way he can't or won't show his face,
and how small and alone you feel
out here on earth's curve,
driving day and night,
never reaching a destination,
until you realize you're running parallel to him,
and you'll never meet.

"Vanishing Point" by Freya Manfred, from Swimming with a Hundred Year Old Snapping Turtle. © Red Dragonfly Press, 2008.

12.01.2009

Assignment 9: Write the Beginnings of Three Stories

1) All of the men that entered that house inevitably left it slightly less manly.

2) The drifter appeared at the edge of town at exactly 2:15pm. After stopping in on Sam's General Store to re-up his supply of chewing tobacco, he further made his presence known by sending two bullets into the chest of Bart Baker, the bank manager. Under the fiery gaze of his split barrel shotgun, Mae Ann Clemens, the bank president's daughter, promptly handed him $6, 256 dollars in silver and gold coin. He did not wait for Pearl Landreau's diamonds, which Mae Ann offered under her duress.

3) Jesslynn was a girl who had never believed in fairies. Or Santa. Or genies. Or happy endings. At 13 she had already seen too much of the real world to pretend anything good or beautiful or lucky lay beyond the cesspool that was her life.