on friday i read my poetry for the first time to the rest of my creative writing class. i was really, really nervous, because i don't normally read my poetry to anybody. i just decided i would force myself to do it; i was proud of what i had written and i wanted to show everybody that i could write. i screwed up some words here and there, but overall, i think it went well. my teacher said it was beautiful and she picked up on everything i was trying to convey. i figured i would share it on here, so here you go:

"party"

I didn't want to bang pots and pans

with a nurse on our couch watching

dick clark on our TV. I didn't feel like

throwing confetti with that van outside,

another nurse on a cigarette break.

I wasn't going to raise a glass to your

atrophy, or toast to your dead neurons

while someone in scrubs wiped your

ass clean, and, I'm sorry, I didn't bring

a fucking cake. I must have forgotten

my party hat, or my year 2004

dollar store glasses when mom called,

when she said she couldn't take care of

the dog anymore, you know, by herself.

I didn't want the doorknob to turn, I didn't

want to blow my kazoo, not with a doctor

in my old room, not when the ball dropped,

or when your lungs popped from heaving,

and I still wonder why the world didn't stop

when hospice wheeled your carcass out of

our house and into

the new year.

haven't posted in like a week, but now that i'm squared away with school and everything else gone to hell in my life i figured i'd post! anyway, most of my classes this semester are pretty sweet. i'm taking intro. to creative writing, and playwriting as well, and i love them both. they're really putting my writing to the test -- i have to write constantly, read constantly, and apply what i've learned effectively. in both classes i feel a lot of competition, so that's good. i need to be around people better than me, and i need to really listen to what they have to say/write -- not be intimidated by it.

recently, i read a really great, short poem in one of my textbooks. it's by margaret atwood, and it's called "you fit into me." check it out:

you fit into me

like a hook into an eye

a fish hook

an open eye

when we read it in class, most of the other students didn't find it too amusing. "too short," i remember someone saying. i guess i could just really relate to it. we're focusing on structural irony in poetry, and i think this captured it perfectly. the first two lines offer the reader a metaphor which could mean a couple things, but it generally points to an idea of a fit or match with somebody. when you read the last two lines, they hit home -- for me at least. it screams "bad relationship." i just think it's a nice little punch to the gut. whatever you want to call it, that's irony for you, and i like it a whole lot. here's two short poems i wrote, a couple stabs at irony for myself.

"naive"

a friend of mine used to say,
when we'd talk about the pretty girls
we wanted to spend our lives with,
that, "when one door closes,"
well, you know. I didn't really
get the picture, though,
until I was standing on your porch,
where you slammed
your life shut
in my face.

"something clicked"

you have, no, new messages-

you have, no, new messages-

you have, no- click

and then something clicked

(click, click, boom)

that's it for now i suppose. let me know what you think, whoever you are. also, i'm writing a 10-minute play for playwriting, it's due monday so i'll have it up by then. i volunteered it to be read in front of class, so i've got to make sure it's decent. it's called "cocked," and i'll have it up here when it's done. you can only imagine what it's about ;)

I suppose as my first entry to this blog, I should give you a little heads up as to what I'm doing (and why I'm doing it). First and foremost, and in all honesty, I'm doing this for a grade. My professor explained that if I were to create and maintain a blog for the duration of the semester, my grade would be bumped up a whole letter-grade. Sounds easy enough. I like to think, however, that the grade is just my push. And that's really my problem. I know I'm good (how good, I couldn't tell you) at what I do (we'll be getting to what I'm doing in just a second), but I lack the motivation and stamina to do so on a regular basis. I (always) need a push or a prod in a certain direction to keep my feet moving. I get bored easily. I get tired even easier. I have creative ADD. My professor went on to explain that the blog could be about anything I wanted, as long as I generally stayed on topic and kept up with it (at least two posts every week). This, for me, is doable. I'm going to be blogging about poetry. I'll be posting my written poetry, my favorite poetry, my favorite poets, and whatever else I feel will get my (and your) poetic juices flowing. I love to write, but I can't write often. I'm looking to change that. OH! I was about to wrap it up (because I'm getting bored), but before I do I wanted to mention the title of the blog. I chose it because I'm hoping that something I post on here will have that effect on somebody. If I can write something that gets somebody, anybody, to say that, I'll be happy. I'll leave my first entry with something I wrote today, the first day of class. Oh, yeah, my name is Kyle and I'm 18 years old. Enjoy! (hopefully)

"bird"

i left there with

a low head

that morning

stepped onto the

sidewalk and

put my

books on the curb

where i sat.

heard the first

bird since last semester

it was

far off and

singular

but, still,

it helped