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Posts Tagged ‘poems’

“In children, however, the impulse to tell stories and the impulse to play with words often seem to coincide, seem, indeed, to be part of the same impulse. The differences between poetry and fiction, between poets and fiction writers, may now be too well understood, may be understood with an artificial certainty. It may be more useful at the moment to think about their similarities.” — Brian Phillips

This is what makes me think I might be able to write whatever I want for my life. Thanks, Poetry.

There are some days I am sure that I am going to die right there.

Murderboating was good. Not motorboating! I saw Abby, and everything was beautiful.

Summer is officially started!

I got about four ideas for poems last night, so I might actually have something to send to my dear Melissa. I’m feeling really good about the summer. I might try and write a memoir! Oh god.

Also, mewithoutYou’s new album comes out Tuesday. Yes!

Be well!

All my affections,

Liz

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I got THREE poems into RiverCraft–one about Tara, one about Ally Harris, and one about my Grandfather.  It’s funny that that’s how I classify them, but that’s the way it is.

NOW: Craft witty and professional bio, organzine shit for SU Review, write a critique, read some stories, get shit done.

All my affections,

Liz

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So today in Adv. Poetry we read a poem called “fuck” that was mostly about how everyone should say fuck in three haikus.  Karla made us say fuck over and over to see if it would lose its meaning.  Karla looked me in the eye and said fuck twice and believe me when I say that that word can not lose its meaning if it is coming out of the mouth of Karla Kelsey.  She could speak purely in pronouns, and it would be beautiful.  Nevertheless, I think that any word will use its meaning if abused.  The word “nice” is an example.  Yeah, it means something, but not much.

In contemporary poets, we watched a 20 minute thing on John Ashbery and I can’t decide whether or not I hate or love that guy. It started with this clip:

Ok, so yeah, dude’s old and retired and won some ridiculous shit, but seriously.  He writes poetry  for two hours and then sleeps? And later, when he talked about his revision process, he essentially said that he trained himself to be lazy so that he could write poetry without editing it.  The poems he doesn’t like he just trashes.  His poems, at least the ones I’ve read from Some Trees are, as I explained to my class, “why my mother hates poetry.”  Their language is conversational, but their meaning is foggy.   Their lineation seems to purely be for lineation.  At the same time, he seems like a nice dude who just wants to write poetry, and I’m okay with that. 

Anyway, there are plenty of things that I should be doing instead of this right now, the first of which is drink Hot Chocolate with Cornelius.

All my affections,

Liz

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