Archive for December 2012
City, Rain, Bike
December 9, 2012First Words (With Pearl!)
December 8, 2012First Words
CHEESE!
Well, PEARL real first word: PEARL, PEARLIE, PEARL CUTIE PIE—me.
So, PEARL, CHEESE both real first words. And with PEARL, CHEESE, all
fall within paw!
“Pearl–you want to PLAYBALL?”
PLAYBALL not CHEESE, but go in mouth and run run run sniff good.
“Hey Pearl – let’s go OUTSIDE.”
OUTSIDE not CHEESE, but wood-stuff, grass-stuff, PEARL NOT ON MOM’s–rrrrrun run run run!
DOGFOOD not CHEESE. Yech! (They sure wouldn’t eat it!)
Sniff wait sniff wait sniff wait wait wait.
“Mom, we can’t let her starve.”
CHEESE!
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I am posting the above for dVerse Poets Pub Poetics prompt by Fred Rutherford re a first person narrative (though perhaps not exactly first PERSON.) The above is a very old video of my (now very old) dog Pearl and one of my beautiful daughters.
And below is a re-posting of a crude animation I did on an iPad. Dogs and cheese are one of my archetypical topics. (As always, all rights reserved!)
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Friday (Night) (With elephant)
December 7, 2012
Friday.
A long week.
Friday!
Friiiiiiidaaaaaayyy!
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz….
“Interment” (Quatern)
December 6, 2012
Interment
I cannot bear to lay you in the ground–
not even in your ash state, shaped by urn;
it seems so cold below that clay-clung mound,
too harshly gelid to comfort harshest burn.
It’s true pooled ash leaves little to discern–
it cannot bare; it lays you into ground-
up bóne and góne and chár, while I still yearn
for spark–the live shine caught upon the round
of tooth, cheek, pupil–that in rebound
caught me. I want to know, but fear to learn
just why I cannot lay you in the ground
without my throat hard-bartered for a quern
that re-mills pain with every swallow’s turn,
that grínds what’s already fíne around
and round, allowing neither fruit nor fern–
that cannot bear to lay you in the ground.
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Here’s a reading of the poem. (I sometimes hate to take people’s time with readings, but in this case, the poem works much better read. I have changed one word since posting the reading, but it’s pretty minor.)
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The above is a quatern – a new poetic form for me, that involves a repeating line. I wrote it for Gay Cannon’s challenge on dVerse Poets Pub (“Form For All”). I am afraid I used a slightly longer (pentameter) line than recommended for the form. I urge you to check out Gay’s explanation of the form and the wonderful poets at dVerse.
And – if you have a moment – check out my books! Perfect for CHEAP Christmas presents! Poetry, GOING ON SOMEWHERE, (by Karin Gustafson, illustrated by Diana Barco). 1 Mississippi -counting book for lovers of rivers, light and pachyderms, orNose Dive. Nose Dive is available on Kindle for just 99 cents!
More Six-Word Stories (And Socks)
December 6, 2012
My life has had very little writing time of late, which leads me to… more six word stories! (Inspired by Ernest Hemingway and Luke Prater.) The idea is to tell a story in just six words. I came up with a few the other day — here are a few more:
Her socks. He paired. Soul mates.
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Boy meets girl. Doesn’t end there.
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I.O.U. forgiven. But not anything else. (Perhaps more true to form: I.O.U. forgiven. Nothing else.)
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Stone. Fits pocket, palm, guard’s temple. (THIS ONE IS NOT ADVOCATING VIOLENCE.)
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Beach bottle. Message waterlogged. Nickle deposit.
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His newspaper. Personal circled. She paced.
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ps – if you want to check Luke’s site, note that I think it may down right now with some software issues but should be up soon.
Bridge Over The River Hudson
December 4, 2012
Tired of Computer. Six-Word Stories.
December 3, 2012
The wonderful poet Luke Prater has a great post up about six-word stories, including a most famous and fantastic one by Ernest Hemingway, as well as some terrific ones of his own. I urge you to check out Luke’s post. (It also includes some of the background as to what makes these micro-fictions work.)
As for me – it’s been a very long day with lots of hours spent on the computer. A great night, in other words, to doodle on a yellow pad and scribble out something very very short. Here are a few of my attempts; each is separate.
I can imagine arranging each of these as poems – one can feel the line breaks in each. But for now, they are just short short stories. Even so, I am linking them to dVerse Poets Pub Open Link Night, hosted by Tashtoo!
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DNA conclusive. Thirty years too late.
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Learning to land didn’t concern him.
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Left all but clothes. Rental furnished.
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Life’s work lost. Chance for enlightenment.
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He didn’t mean it. Life sentence.
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Abstinence education. They both skipped class.
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p.s. several commenters have said Luke’s site has gotten infected with malware. Agh. Hopefully he’ll be able to get that fixed soon.
“Collapse (Of The Memory Palace)” A la Rossetti (Dante Gabriel)
December 2, 2012
Collapse (of the Memory Palace)
Onces I could recall
were once numbered in the many,
like a building so stories tall–
now, not any.
Not true, not fair. Still, a lodging rather small
now houses about all.
And it seems to be built of scone,
the kind with currents sultanal–
I’d prefer stone,
which wouldn’t flake as I walk down the hall,
spot grease on every wall
instead of portraits, landscapes, fine,
their contours round me like a shawl,
warm with that time–
lost many–before memory’s crumbled fall.
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A reading of the poem:
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My picture, in case for some strange reason you can’t quite tell, is meant to be a scone house. I am posting this for a With Real Toads challenge of Kerry O’Connor to write a poem in a rhyming and meter format developed by the Pre-Raphaelite painter and poet Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828-1882). I’ve used one of Rossetti’s images (the face in the window of the scone house), and also stretched/squeezed in some of his background leaves.
For American readers, sultanas are known in the U.S. as golden raisins – I’m afraid I’ve made them too dark in my picture. A “memory palace” is an age-old technique for memorization, which involves placing whatever is to be remembered in a slightly strange context in some part of a known physical space. (Joshua Foer has written a wonderful book about this – MOONWALKING WITH EINSTEIN.) I was not frankly thinking about that use of memory when initially writing the poem, but it’s kind of a fun connection.
Check out Kerry’s prompt for more info on Rossetti’s form, and also for other poets taking the challenge.
Also, if you get a moment, CHECK OUT MY BOOKS! Great for Christmas presents! Poetry, GOING ON SOMEWHERE, (by Karin Gustafson, illustrated by Diana Barco). 1 Mississippi -toddlers’ counting book for lovers of rivers, light and pachyderms, orNose Dive. Nose Dive is available on Kindle for just 99 cents!
“Missing Something” (Read Directions First Maybe)
December 1, 2012
Missing Something
Yellow-black burn
spilled into linoleum dim, overswarming
with olfactory buzz
the warm hum of being eight
and baking on my own.
My mother tromped from bedroom telephone
to bemoan the oven floor puddled
with goo that still dripped
stalactite-like
from tube pan liner, a reverse lava swirling thick
amarillo onto the glowing U
of heating element.
So elemental, it seemed to her, that the eggs
in a sponge cake (her favorite) must be separated, whites beaten
into stiff peaks
as the recipe I had not read through
required,
and that the lining of a tube pan, especially
when incorrectly positioned, could not, like first base fumbling,
hold
a running batter.
So, I learned, or was taught–for
I’m not sure I’ve learned it yet–that life
is not simply a stir-in
of the sequential–that you can’t,
in other words, just pour a bunch of stuff
into a bowl and expect
to eat cake–
But how could it be? Magic,
my burning cheeks were certain, was supposed
to work my way,
just as in every story–
except perhaps The Little Match Girl,
Bambi, Charlotte’s Web….
Okay.
But there should at least,
I was sure, be a third wish, a silver lining
to re-capture the remiss, cloak consequence
with iridescence, not
leak.
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A reading of the poem, if interested:
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I am posting the above for dVerse Poets Pub Poetics prompt hosted by Stu McPherson, about ‘missing’. I did another poem earlier today about missing my brain, and worms, but decided that even a failed cake was a bit more savory.
For those who don’t know, a tube pan is a pan with an inner liner and tube that fits into a bottomless frame. It should ideally be used for very thick batters (like fruit cake), or very puffy batters (like angel food cake or sponge cake). Or my problem may be have been that I put the pieces together backwards!
Have a nice weekend. And if you get a chance, check out my books! Poetry, GOING ON SOMEWHERE, (by Karin Gustafson, illustrated by Diana Barco). 1 Mississippi -counting book for lovers of rivers, light and pachyderms, orNose Dive. Nose Dive is available on Kindle for just 99 cents!
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