Monday, December 3, 2012

Companionship


 David and Gilda had been living in the same two bedroom home for the last five years. Of those five years they had been married for four of them, kept two cats for three of them, and been miserable in each others company for five of them. They both worked during the day and spent their evenings together entertaining themselves in the usual way.

It was David's turn to cook supper and, like every night before, he made it from a can. Tonight would be a chicken barley night. David poured the broth into a pot and set it heat with his cigarette lighter. Last week Gilda had thrown out the bills along with David's mail. They were now embroiled in a protracted game of chicken over who would be the first pay to turn the utilities back on. The still-cold soup was served in the dining room by candle light, a candle Gilda has used not minutes ago to pour wax into the pockets of David's favorite pair of jeans, and the couple ate in silence.

With supper over they settled into the living room and sat together on the couch. A communal seat had long since been considered much safer then any chair they might favor alone. Tacks, various liquids, and dead vermin had a way of finding rest there. The candle also made the journey from the dining room. Both David and Gilda had taken up reading in front of their silent television set, the candle in it's holder nestled somewhere between them threatening to burn clothes, paper, and skin alike. Neither of them could think of a way to make their time together more pleasant.

When the light finally ran down they both retired to their separate bed rooms. They had tried sleeping together but found that waiting for the other to strike made it more trouble then it was worth. So Gilda side stepped the safety pins lying in the floor next to her bed and David flipped his mattress to avoid the unknown stain left on his sheets. Apart they drifted into slumber, thinking about when the water would be turned off and just how much the other would suffer for it.

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

Wreckage of Response

New York/LA Whirlwind Romance by Karen Lilis

Told entirely through quotations from one side of a long distance relationship, this particular story struck me because I only know the majority of my friends I know only through the internet and have never met in person. I've often thought about how great it would be to see them all but have never really considered the flip side; what if your relationship soured when you met someone in person? The couple in this story appear to be very in love, perfect for each other, until they actually meet. In the course of one trip the negative aspects that were either ignored or never apparent come out and the entire relationship falls apart." 'Let me tell you something about MEN: they don't like Women who're too needy.' ... 'Maybe then you won't compulsively talk about your problems' ... 'You wouldn't want us to be too SERIOUS about this would you?' ... 'I get accused of having no feeling.' ... 'I'm actually a really incredible guy.' ... 'Yeah, I'll talk to you sometime.' ". The complete breakdown of barriers that occurs when the couple have finally met, and the revelation of the mans ugly side is striking. He appears almost a different person from before, who was counting the days til they could be together.

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Fiction Packet Response

I was surprised, after having read several pieces, by the variety of work in this packet. I can't explain why; the amount of short stories tackling a wide variety of subjects from different angles, with different voices and tones must be innumerable. None the less I found myself thinking "I didn't expect this" and neither did I expect to enjoy it as much as I did. I want to take a look at a few of my favorite pieces.

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Hesitation


Landis was feeling hesitant
Deep, black and slothful
A hole that is every action
Swallowed by the emptiness of spirit

Landis twisted
This room this building
This place he knew in fractions
Stopped short of discovery

Landis rocked
Quaked at the encompassing
Bleak terror that welled
Well into the void time

Landis stopped




Landis started
In heaves and sputters
Inaction commited
Commemorates that history

Landis was quiet
Paced by mold
Growth inevitably
Laborious

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

Blood Dazzler Response

The biggest difference between Blood Dazzler by Patricia Smith and the works we've read so far is that it contains a clear narrative following the hurricane Katrina striking New Orleans in 2005. The narrative style of the book and its concrete subject matter made it much easier to read. A timeline of events is formed, from Katrina's forming, evacuation, land fall, and aftermath of the disaster.

A majority of the poems in Blood Dazzler are written from the perspective of those involved, particularly the victims. The hardships of the survivors and the dead are written in stark detail leaving little to the imagination. Authority figures play a smaller part, showcasing mainly the apathy the government (and the president himself) seemed to have toward the disaster. The most interesting of the "characters" showcased was hurricane Katrina herself. I say herself due to Smith's anthropomorphizing of the hurricane into a very alive, very cruel woman.

Blood Dazzler is very dark and unforgiving in its subject matter, dealing with very disturbing truths of hurricane Katrina. Rape is mentioned several times, more so I believe then general violence. Victims left to die, particularly the 34 residents of St. Rita's Nursing Home and Ethel Freeman who died waiting for rescue. And again, there is a stark reminder of government apathy in the poem What To Tweak which features an email correspondence between a FEMA employee and Michael Brown, head of the agency. Brown's response of "thanks for the update" in reply to a very grim assessment of the situation paints a clear picture of how little anyone cared for the victims left in New Orleans.

Thursday, September 27, 2012

Repose - After Ed Roberson's "The Counsel of Birds"

Consider the night owl
bird or man, whichever you like
that spends it's waking time in nocturnal hours
Life's little sanctuary

Bleak expanse broken
Electric view and hues
used by the waking
Tools to make it our own

Solitude is safety
and cherish it as such
Consider the night owl
Did it choose this for itself?

Give pause, thought
momentary sapience (of which all need)
the answer may be a surprise
Avian fells need not fly together

Sonnets


Deluge

Intruding here without a place
I found the souls alive within
And came not seeking affection's embrace
But in this space it were to begin
Through painful nights we clung close
Although bodies remained far away
Our minds did speak and found verbose
And in time our hearts would sway
There was no goal nor a set task
With which I began pursuit
But remain in your presence and there bask
Togetherness, for which, I became resolute
Romantics exalt, with prose and pen
All I cherish, my truest friend