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.

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.