rest

Maybe it will be a Sunday thing. And by "it," I mean blogging. Naturally.

I was all excited to get back into the classroom. As student, not teacher. I still am. Even more excited that it's a workshop. I could listen to Ed Roberson talk all day and all night long. It's never scripted, always brilliant. He was the reason I chose to start NU in the fall instead of the winter--or at least the reason Reg gave me.

This is my third workshop with Ed. He has exactly one flaw. He wants poems on Sunday night. Regardless of what day of the week class is on (Wednesday), he wants poems on Sunday. Sunday is not a good poem-ing day for me. Neither is Saturday, Friday, and Thursday is a maybe. I need time to process and write the assignment. Because the great thing about Ed is that he always gives an assignment that's specific enough to keep conversation in class going, and broad enough that you can do whatever the hell you want and fulfill the assignment. The horrible thing about Ed is that he never knows what next week's assignment will be until Wednesday night. Which means you can't write Monday/Tuesday/Wednesday for class.

Do you see my dilemma?

The goal was actually to write last night, revise tonight, post in one hour to Blackboard. That was before I was asked to fill in for another RS teacher who apparently moved to Idaho. So I prepped a lesson. Or avoided prepping a lesson. Which is only slightly different from avoiding writing a poem. Different Aaron Sorkin series.

The assignment this week is to take inspiration from poems by Albert Mobilio and Terrance Hayes. I've read the poems and nothing is jumping. Except, as I say that, I doubt myself.

From Mobilio:
"denial is // a prisoner's / lyre"
"I'm solo, mesmerized" (both from "Circuit Breaks")

"On this sixth day of windshield strain / rise up without a word // Semi-private, semi-circling thoughts, / the season seaps beneath my hat // A head full of clauses"
"I want to be ready when the cry goes up" (from "Social Struggle")

"My night watch: night watches me"
"My headache passes overhead, / far along & thus we row" (from "Far as Mine Goes")

"Pretend if you can / that it's last August's fairground"
"I'm hearing her sway / in her best-dressed / evasion" (from "We Hold Our Heads High")

"The action just takes you"
"breakage is // a kind of bruise--the air / around me aches." (from "Swing Music")

"I've learned to read the way I write" (from "What the Great Ones Do")

And the best line, maybe of all:
"I'm stealing your poem because it's / almost, nearly entirely mine" (also from "What the Great Ones Do")


P.S. I'm also a fan of Hayes, and I really like Lighthead, which is what our reading came from. Just sayin'.