Winckler Assignment two
Winckler Assignment two – LLED 445
Proxy Poem:
“להקשיב”
I who am safe
Cozy in my apartment
Who comes home each day to see
everything I could ever need
Ponder that these were men,
Who slaved in rain and snow
Who feared for their lives every day
Who risked life for a sip of soup
Who lived or died at a right or a left
Ponder that these were women,
Without identity or image
Without a will to go on
No ability to reproduce a future
like a single animal ripped of their mate
Refuse to forget that this has happened
These words have been commended to me
I have tattooed them on my soul
When I am home, when I am on the streets
When I’m with friends or students or colleagues
Repeat them to every ear that will listen
Or may I lose my rights
My ability to speak or listen
And the world turn its face on me.
Minosky Assignment 2
Remix Renga Poem – “A Guilty Appetite”
Underneath the hugest mouth of clouds there lived an Archangel.
Within a briar of thorns lived his nemesis the Demon.
The Demon, with eyes glowing, loved to feast on only the most sweet, plump, and gentle of children.
The children tasted as sweet as flowers, plump as a plum, and gentle as a floss.
What a way to go on a road trip – “lets do it again!”
Order comes from madness.
As a result of my dog’s madness, the entire town feared their demise,
And headed straight towards fiery blades,
which reached over the Egyptian pyramids, and under the illuminating moonlight.
“How else could it have been?” he asked.
“It could have been the way it was meant to be” he concluded.
Better than 50 year old Scotch.
McKeen Ass. 2 Proxy Poem
You, charging up that hill
Heedless immoderate thing, sturdy terracotta child
You fall often, but seldom cry
And often I tell you, Sometimes you gotta eat the pain.
Sometimes you gotta surf it
You run with your eyes your arms your heart
flung open
You run downhill too fast
You will be crushed
in a thousand different ways but
I remember I didn’t care either when
I was a sun-gilded Belleek earth baby
Greedy hungry thing
Falling is not the same as being pushed you tell me
the night of your grievous pain
and you shake with sorrow in your chest and
I shake with murder in mine
You tell me you will fling it all open again
You already know you’re not done running
You are not made of glass, or china or terracotta
He hasn’t killed you
Pinched out your flame with careless fingers
No one will see this part but you, is what you tell me
Helpless, I speak to your bowed head
Eat the pain.
Or surf it.
Assignment 2
Dhaliwal Assignment 2
Alternative Medium Poem
Montgomery Assignment 2
no pen, some paper, public poems
- make
- I grew up with TV and I turned out TV
- Wall, huh what is it good for