Some stuff for Naropa Summer Writing Program

Assignment # 2- Meditate on a piece of trash and then describe it and make it beautiful or alive for the reader.

Vision of an Ashtray

Gray, white, and black dusting of ash lines the base of the aluminum basin.
Watermarks stain the metal in shades of brown, gray, and black.
The pallet dulled with age.
The interior of the can is also stained.
Black smudges spot the walls like constellations.
These are contrasted by a galaxy of white dots, gray debris and sticky, old gum.

Occasional smoke wafts from ill-stubbed cigarette butts.
The smell is at once pleasant, and acrid.
It evokes memories of years as a smoker.
The taste of the inhale, sweet and harsh.
The aftermath, where my mouth felt coated,
As though I had licked the interior of an entire ash tray
Yet somehow-- still attractive.

I am struck by all the colors.
Whites, beiges, dotted with yellow,
Shockingly green filters
With names like Camel.
Warm brown scattering of ancient tobacco crumbles.
INHALE.

Assignment # 5: Think of garbage—contamination or containment. Imagine an elaborate contamination control. Consider: What am I contaminated by? What do I contaminate? What might you do to keep what you wrote from leaking?

Containment

hide the HIDEOUS

They built our new school
on top of an arsenal.

hide the WASTE
bury it
entomb it in concrete

proclaim it clean
proclaim it safe
make it a wildlife preserve

plant native prairie grass
RED, wildflowers grow
bursting from “clean” earth

protect the animals
bring back the buffalo
DARK, silhouettes against pale sky

bring the children
MULTICOLORED, multi-cultural, multiplying--
free public education

free water for everyone
fresh from under the arsenal
certified SAFE

Contained by concrete.

Sonnet 12

If I close my eyes, I can sense you in the darkness.
I taste your skin through scent alone
Longing for your gentle caress, a sense of rightness.
Senses ranging out beyond this space, my mind's eye flown.
Out into the cool night rain
I am full of longing, seeking your kiss.
While my body lays here, my main
Vision is of you, don't want to miss--
Even an instant of what could be
Lost in the flood of this torrent
Of sensuality. Emotions fill me
Sweep me deep beneath the current
I don't care of it drowns me
Long as all your love still surround me.

Sonnet 11

You ask me why I no longer write you love poems
But I do write them, leaving them only in my head.
So now I attempt to spill out the tomes
Carefully treasured, to find where they led.
Each stored line seems to point me back to you
As I navigate through what is me and what is other
I learn there can still be me and you too
My heart tells me I do not seek another.
In each beat, I hear your voice, feel your touch
Little things turn my thoughts constantly your way--
Some might say this is not much
But to me, all the signs seem to say--
This connection is something special, our love too great
To be ignored, I must grab this chance before too late.