Saturday, September 20, 2008

Poem for Workshop number 2. Ross up too.

I moved this one for the comments section. Add you workshop cents to the comments section. We'll have to yell at Scottish so that he'll hopefully start adding other authors. This one is by Ross. Again sorry for any formatting inconsistencies. Let fly - d.l.

"There are Usually Understood Chord Progressions"

Vapid resonance I see.
Ah the day glow rays underneath every curve, or
helicopters in strato-silence filming docudramas for mamas.
My purse kills your purse girl, no way.
Why don’t we find ourselves someone stacked with guidelines and cooking lessons?
I hear that’ll give us something to eat in between vomit sessions behind open doors,
Mostly so we can be pretty by the pool before July.
Tiles burst; they do, during white coat festivals in Memphis hotels, where the cigar chompers lace their catgut boots with plantation cotton, softer than cotton swabs at the doctor’s office, and each of us can swallow. Barely legal we cavort about puffed like cockatoos, dusk-light centering on the outside heat. Clouds cover my view from the top of the penthouse garden where the ducks sleep for supper. Dark clouds, I see, flexing morals inherent only to men with wedding bands, and wives that give head.
Aeroplanes now fly encumbered, slightly covered in balming gloss which makes your face shine.
May as well slap some butter on there and heave a hammer in your direction.
Attention is the cornflake-caked casserole flushed between two servings of eggplant seared with custard. Locking doors skirting around like some garden dancer drenched in clay paint.
We will find you, even if the discovery baffles you, everything gets around you.
Even if you were a scaler of hilltops, or a kisser of Blarney stones, your sun dresses love that shine, and your times of troublesome getting-to-know-you’s eventually stop, I hear.
Not enough for the real people here, do I hear.
Parting with great guitar solos and even quieter I do’s, I hear you getting off the bus below.
Walk, walk to the organ donor office and ask for a cheese sandwich.
He might be able to take time off for soccer practice, maybe even screw the bolts down on the new deck you just bought for the backyard, equipped along the neighbor’s garden spot, but I hear there are problems here, unforeseen early birds caught eating those silk purses your friends had at festivals last July,
But you were too busy eating sandwiches by gardens, helping little Lucy into her first sundress.

- Ross Tagendal

Thursday, September 18, 2008

Let Virtual Workshopping Begin!

Anyone remember MST3K? I'm kind of feeling like yelling we've got movie sign, if only because I'm so damned excited to get this bad boy on the go. First up is mr.powers. We should all try to leave comments for him by Saturday night. This should be great and thanks johnny thundernuts.

Autumn Is a Close Friend (Poem 1)

(sorry about the formatting problems) - d.l.

Autumn Is A Close Friend


This is the time of year
In which coffee tastes best;
A season of reversion and of harvest,
A season in which coffee is cathartic.

5. The tall native grasses of this hillside

Have begun to droop, to wither.
Their tired yellowing stems letting go
Their loaded heads,
A necessary seasonal return.

10. I gladly wave goodbye to Summer.

A sticky season of oppression
So lacking in dignity, lacking nobility.
A season for drunken sons,
14. Lazing away the days.

15. Autumn owns a liminality no other season knows.

Whereas Spring is fertility and potential,
summer is folly and attempted escapes
And Winter, after its third month, is death,

19. Autumn is life.
Autumn is a close friend.
Autumn is a perfect cup of coffee.

- john d. powers

Sunday, September 14, 2008

The Brass Tacks

Gentlemen (and maybe one lady), shall we begin this? Let's start with poetry. Doesn't all great writing start there? Anyways, do we have a volunteer to put up some stuff? Don't act like the kids in my workshop. I don't want to have pick out the shy kid in the corner.

P.S. I feel this black box needs some colour. Scott, please fix this.