A couple of my students asked to analyze one of my poems for class. I gave them a few (coming soon as a SUBPRESS book!)

Response to one of my student's essays:

I have to say I appreciate your astute ability to talk about this narrator as separate from myself, as if the narrator is a character, or maybe even "everyman". You helped me narrow in on what this poem is about in a fresh way and I appreciate that too. There is a kind of turn around in this poem, what you call a "redirection", and the clue of the surfboard is there. Some kind of weird conflation of light and water too?

And maybe a metaphor with poetry. Like the surf is life and the paper is the surf board.

The Steven King Crouch End thing intrigues, but you have to explain. I haven't read it so not sure what you are referencing.

The "S" idea you need to explicate. (maybe the wave itself? S is a wave.)

The "I" idea you get nicely.

The sadness is interesting. You point to the stray cat as a clue and I like that. The word stray does imply "from something".

You mention the poem's loneliness, and though it is there, I think there is something in the "emptiness" that is not lonely, which leads to the wave, to the poem.

Shane the horse

Shane the horse


I went through the desert on a horse with no name
actually he did have a name
his name was Shane

It was a shame
nobody knew Shane's name

Shane! Come back!

He's gone and he thinks nobody knows his name

In the desert no one can hear you complain

I rode through the desert on a horse with a name
I wish I had known the horse's name was Shane
It gives my heart pain to think he had a name all along
to think that under the desert sea was a lovely star
in the sea breeze rippling and schools of fish
jumping and rotating cylinders...

and there was a whole life
under the sea
that we could not see
that we did not know
and now we're killing it off

How low can you go?

Richard Branson wants to know
he's gonna hire himself the know how
to get down to depths no man ever done

Reach, last stars to reach
the earth to breach

I went through the desert on a horse
whose name was Shane

He had a mane
of purple
and grapefruit
and pineapple

he had a tale as long
as the run of this song
and longer
and fatter
and stronger
and sadder

what are you eating
my daughter?

fullness

D Note basement w/ Matthew reading Night 9 from 1001 Nights, watching Rushdie talk about Midnight's Children, dancing hard to G.A.M.B., watching commentary to Quadrophenia, then watching last Louis of season "New Year's Eve" and it is the best TV episode ever. (maybe). Next day Susan Howe's "My Emily Dickinson" and Kailin Yong on the violin at the D Note. Great...

poem by Matthew DeGraff and myself post cabin party

Mountain Love D Style

Elks bugling
To the new moon
Uncontrollable jowling out
On Molly's mushroom
I spilled the spirits (12 year old)
Being high in the upper valley
Escape to organica
Kill it with the now
Before we leave these woods
We have to exchange numbers
In the sea of red cups you will know
Tub Proust candle party

SPECULATIVE POEM (in C Sharp)

shit man, i lost my game

for reals

but still

the world doesn't know from lame

will to power

I took Sofia (who prefers to be called Sasha) and Analucia to the Martin Acres Park. Sasha was running around talking to strangers while I was feeding Analucia. I saw a group of three boys, about 5 years old. One boy was leading the other two in a game of pretend. They were pretending a large metal structure was a dinosaur fossil. When the leader touched the fossil the dinosaur came to life and the boys ran away screaming. Boys are obsessed with dinosaurs and trucks. Why? Because they are big and powerful. A few minutes later and the leader is picking up sand in his hands and says, "This is power. Here, have some". He pours a little power into each boys hands. One boy picks up a pinecone and says, "this is MY power". The leader says, "that isn't power! This is power," and he picks up some more sand in his hands. He tries to give some to the boy with the pinecone, but the boy doesn't want it. So the leader gives away some of his power to the third boy who takes it. Then the leader offers his sand once again to the boy with the pinecone. This time, not wanting to be left out, the boy drops the pinecone and takes some sand. At this point a fourth boy, maybe three years old, comes over and holds out his hands for some power. The leader gives him some. A few minutes later, as the first three are already off doing something else, the fourth younger boy is still standing there looking down at his power, smiling. This is the way our minds and societies are formed from its earliest stages of development. Its a primal will to have and control power. No wonder.

A grandfatherly gentleman comes over and sits on our bench. He says hi and then out of nowhere, "Are you between jobs?" I want to say, this is a job! But I just say I work from home and am therefore lucky enough to be able to take a break and hang out with my girls in the park. He says, "Well, you're doing it right. You're treating them like children instead of little midgets. That's the reason my three year old grandson is living with us, because my son treats him like a little midget."

Before I could ask him exactly what he meant by that he got a call on his cell and was off.

Will To Power

I took Sofia (who prefers to be called Sasha) and Analucia to the Martin Acres Park. Sasha was running around talking to strangers while I was feeding Analucia. I saw a group of three boys, about 5 years old. One boy was leading the other two in a game of pretend. They were pretending a large metal structure was a dinosaur fossil. When the leader touched the fossil the dinosaur came to life and the boys ran away screaming. Boys are obsessed with dinosaurs and trucks. Why? Because they are big and powerful. A few minutes later and the leader is picking up sand in his hands and says, "This is power. Here, have some". He pours a little power into each boys hands. One boy picks up a pinecone and says, "this is MY power". The leader says, "that isn't power! This is power," and he picks up some more sand in his hands. He tries to give some to the boy with the pinecone, but the boy doesn't want it. So the leader gives away some of his power to the third boy who takes it. Then the leader offers his sand once again to the boy with the pinecone. This time, not wanting to be left out, the boy drops the pinecone and takes some sand. At this point a fourth boy, maybe three years old, comes over and holds out his hands for some power. The leader gives him some. A few minutes later, as the first three are already off doing something else, the fourth younger boy is still standing there looking down at his power, smiling. This is the way our minds and societies are formed from its earliest stages of development. We have a primal will to have and control power.

A grandfatherly gentleman comes over and sits on our bench. He says hi and then out of nowhere, "Are you between jobs?" I want to say, this is a job! But I just say I work from home and am therefore lucky enough to be able to take a break and hang out with my girls in the park. He says, "Well, you're doing it right. You're treating them like children instead of little midgets. That's the reason my three year old grandson is living with us, because my son treats him like a little midget."

Before I could ask him exactly what he meant by that he got a call on his cell and was off.