When you’re a poet going for a journalism degree, filling out the teacher evaluation after attending your first ever poetry writing class, but stylistically have always been a journalist amongst poets. I added actual constructive criticism afterward, but couldn’t not write this down once the idea occurred to me.
This class was taught by poet Brenda Cárdenas, and I enrolled specifically because she was the teacher. I plan to take another in spring, one which deals with book layout. On my computer sits got a decade-long backlog of poems waiting to be published, so this class should prove convenient and helpful. The writing has been done, that’s the important part. Publishing can always happen later.
Americans are so bad at death. Once someone dies it’s like they end up in a time capsule that is never questioned or discussed. Here’s a poem remembering somebody’s unpredictable sense of humor that flourished regardless. Click the arrows to read the next lines.
I stopped by the 89.7 WUWM Lake Effect Studios last week to record a poem about sitting in the woods and feeling certain that everything you hear is a deer – until it isn’t. Give a listen to my deer little ditty Orange Blaze of Glory. Don’t worry, it’s not graphic, in case you’re one who doesn’t eat meat.
Yesterday I nearly had my own Isadora Duncan moment while riding over the Hoan Bridge in Milwaukee. Two wheels not four. My immediate thoughts following became this brief poem. If it makes you curious, I’ll leave you to do your own research about Isadora Duncan.
I was at work the other day, asking about planting strategies with a very experienced land management specialist. He mentioned something, almost as an afterthought, about how forbs need root competition to flourish long-term. Otherwise they grow too large and collapse on themselves. I found this interesting and ended up writing a poem about it. We published it on our Blog at Schlitz Audubon Nature Center. It’s pretty fantastic that I’ve got a job where I’m invited to write poetry about nature.
I typed this little poem quick on my phone while working. I kept overhearing these guys and it struck me, these men talking to one another candidly and without any sort of concern. How they felt their families, their jobs, their futures. Admirable.