Its round, brass realism strikes me in place.
I must leave, but cannot will my hand to move.

I cannot bear to taint its words with my clumsy hands.

After searching for so long,
I can finally see myself in a proper light:
All roundish, completely out of distortion.
I am distorted,
By view, thought, and ambition.
I know I must leave.
Yet, the way I shine in the light;
The way I’m finally large enough for my dreams,
Is a sight too true to be smeared.

A plummet, back into this proportionately disfigured real.

And
As inevitable as the fall of the sun,
I wrap my lumbering hand around its face,
Twist its neck,
And walk out the door,
Leaving.

http://diasporadialogues.com/articles/news/2011/09/08/announcing-littoronto-contest/#.Tnpzfb_GowI

There’s no age restriction, so go for it.  And tell your friends!

It is curious how we work for fire by

striking matches and flicking lighters, to

start  campfires or light cigarettes

– flames are controlled and desired – while

We also work to extinguish fire by

spraying water and rolling around to

put out  forest fires or  burning dresses

– flames are wild and feared.

I can try to make a spark, but I cannot make it catch you

I hope you’re all having a superb summer. While doing so, definitely take a look at this. It’s something all of you, grads and present students alike, should take note of. Read the guidelines carefully, and look for a detailed reminder come early September.

http://dd.maytree.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=84&Itemid=1

There are many of you – stress that “many” – that should jump at this chance. Do it!

Observing the juxtaposition of young with old,
Not of age, but of familiarity.

He remains idle in the shadows, yet can still sidle and stalk
by the most obtrusive of groups;
his clever camouflage masks his precarious visage,
shaking,
still,
from earlier pursuits, lacking in success.

Rewind…

To a simpler time,
Of his wrong, first word.

For various reasons, including the music recital, several people are not able to make tomorrow’s meeting.  I really want to make sure everyone can be there, so let’s try this again.  How about Monday afternoon, same time and place?  Try to clear your schedules, and let me know immediately if that doesn’t work.

Because many of you are going to see “Billy Elliot” tomorrow, let’s shift our final meeting to Thursday, as in June 2.  We’ll still be in Room 221 and, yes, there will still be pizza.  If this date doesn’t work, please let me know ASAP so we can find one that does.

Also, the activity on here of late is excellent – some really, really good poems, complimented by thoughtful commentary.

Great job, and keep it up.

It hit me,

like a fly ball hits a jogger

who passes by a game

on a breezy summer night,

That you do not care anymore.

The jogger knows that

there is a chance she will be hit,

but she decides to listen to some music

and turn her back to the game,

maybe because she doubts that anybody will hit that far

or maybe because she just does not care;

maybe she wants to jog through that part of the park

with lots of flowers and trees and dandelions that you can blow apart

and she does not care if it means a little sting – a little pain –

because a bump on her head will go away, eventually