Poetry Corner

Some poems from my 'Making It Strange' poetry class.

The branches.

The branches here

Don’t sway too much.

The mud is thick and everywhere

You can only dance for so long

Until the children-minded close in

With their tiny jars like mini-chasms

Or the staid contradict their great fight

With their division of freedom.

There are no pass-outs

You can’t shake them

You just have to wait;

Wait and hope for the sway.

Heather

You craft drawings of foreign inspiration

A few deft lines and a person is there,

Emoting

Do they speak to you?

I see you with your chickens

The ones you couldn’t part with from science

Do they nuzzle into you?

You ice skate but I’ve never seen you do it

Can you double axle?

You don’t drive.

You’re just over the fence

But there’s more than just one between us.

Is it of your creation or mine?

I think you’re lonely.

Is that ok?

Title

Italic in style

Bold in spirit

Entitled to your attention

A bad idea

I’m over here…

Distanced.