- This topic has 151 replies, 46 voices, and was last updated 6 months, 3 weeks ago by
.
-
Posts
-
-
-
Post ONE written work (no more than three pages, double-spaced) for which you would like to receive extensive feedback. Post a piece that makes you nervous, or one you think is almost finished, or the first draft of an idea with great potential. Don’t overthink it, just make sure it is work on which you would actually like detailed feedback.
And when you post the poem, Introduce yourself by saying what we should call you, where you’re from, and a favorite random factoid. You know, like, “In Iceland, there are over 100 words for wind,” or, “A slug is the closest known land relative to the octopus.”
Post your poems, dummies! Do not wait until the night before. I need plenty of alone time with’em. Please shut the door on your way out.
Can’t wait to hang!
Buddy -
I’m Lisa. You should call me Lisa. My people are from the UK & western Europe but I live in Guelph Ontario.
Factoid: the river I live by, the Eramosa, used to be the town garbage dump, because throwing trash into the waterways seemed like a good idea at the time. The river keeps saying it’ll recover if we let it; it’s overgrown with willows and medicinal plants and there are frogs (good sign, right?). There are still many interesting bits of old glass and bits of metal embedded in the mud.
-
-
-
I love this piece, Lisa.
So many great bits.
Brought me back to my childhood.
Thank you.
-
-
-
I like the grips me like a haunting line!
-
-
-
” the scent of which makes wordless panic at 26 until my lover rewashes their hair with something else/”
Could you flush this out a bit more? I feel a bit taken out of the poem. It feels like another poem perhaps?
What I loved is that I am brought into the scene right away. I like the economy of words that describe the your father’s authority. And it is repeated in the line about broken toothbrushes. Or at least that’s how I read it.
This piece moves like a treasure hunt. And I am here for it. It was universal in that it reminded me of me years ago as I explored my mom’s dresser drawers with inherited jewelry. Bravo.
I like how using / worked. I’ve not explored that and always wondered the the device behind it, line breaks? But why not punctuation for that? I saw this and wanted to explore this in my own work/ line breaks. Can’t wait to see more of your work!
-
-
This picture you have painted feels so delicate and relatable unforced. I am so excited to read more.
-
This piece was so clearly detailed, and brought back memories of my childhood as well.
Hi Lisa – great to meet you!
-
-
really enjoyed your reading of this on sunday. buddy gave you great feedback. i’m a big fan of the tone, flow, and structure of this piece.
-
-
Victoria Ruiz {she/her}
Minneapolis, MNFact::the longest bridal veil was the length of 63 football fields.
Also, I am excited to be here!
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1ouKVkgN-JK6Or11kYB9YFtN6fqMcBkrlwEc11WDoCvs/edit?usp=drivesdk
-
-
I love how you structured the Stanzas, lines and line breaks in the poem it makes me want to play around with my pieces like that
-
-
-
-
Also a big fan of the way you played with the lines and stanzas, it was very effective in giving me space to experience the thought journey in your head.
-
The first line sticks with me. Been there!
-
-
Tracy Buchanan (she/her)
Waynesboro, PA
Fact: If you add up 1+2+3+4+5.. all the way up to 100, the result is 5050.I cannot wait for this experience to unfold. We are badasses for showing up!
Submission – “Then < Now”
-
-
That first line was so dope! I enjoyed reading this.
-
-
“My soul bares the marks of Hellfire thrice worse than the DMV”
Ugggh, the DMV IS hell. I recently sold my soul during a recent five hour wait to renew my license.
How can you bring YOU into the poem? Specific details. How is this a story that only YOU can tell? Can you pull back the curtains to show us what’s for dinner? What’s
cooking? Bring the heat! -
-
“I’ve hauled myself out of this self-imposed hell for the last time”
Yes.
-
-
Hi, I am Thaina – like China but with a T (she/her/hers).
Born and raised in Sao Paulo, Brazil
Living in Rockville, MD.Fact: Sloths are amazing swimmers/ sloths only poop once a week.
I am excited to share this experience with you all!
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xCCjSfMiWWPmPWls1x3AdVj-N7S9H2Co69J-U_OlRCY/edit?usp=sharing
-
That I’m Surprised. Motherfucker, line was so well crafted and placed in your piece
-
-
-
-
“Motherfucker,
did you miss your anti-bias training?”Literally what I was thinking. Thanks for going deep and sharing your experience with us.
-
-
Hi all, I’m Matthew (he/him). From Auckland, New Zealand.
Fact: The tuatara (a national pride of New Zealand) is not a lizard; it is the only living member of the order Rhynchocephalia, which flourished around 200 million years ago. All other members of the order became extinct 60 million years ago, in the late Cretaceous period.
Excited to be here.
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1dConW04viuJ5ecVKKdJMIsKts1wy7luZ46-0ScNBsG0/edit?usp=sharing
-
That poem reads like a delicate love poem that’s confident enough in its beauty and strength to be unafraid to also be deeply weird. I love weird poems that are also beautiful. There are so many lines that demanded to be reread.
The one line that didn’t quite seem to me to fit is this one: “I have not yet been right about more of which I am wrong” I’m curious about what that line means to you.
-
Matthew,
There were 3 lines which lovingly punched me right in the stomach.
“You are a Sunday that has forgotten all process, a cathedral built on fresh presence.”
“You tell me of nightmares and so I salt them, wrap them in silk and toss them into the graves where all living things go to find correction.”
“I have not yet been right about more of which I am wrong…”That is some strong writing, powerful imagery. I look forward to more!
-
-
-
-
This is golden, Matthew, all of it. Thank you for this.
-
This is is so beautiful. Much of me wants more details, such as wanting to know HOW the body responds. And omg LOVE the line “our hands make bold choices in kitchens and in dreams” can’t wait to read more of your writing.
-
“You are a
Sunday that has forgotten all process, a
cathedral built on fresh presence.”Yesssss.
-
-
i really appreciate this piece, and i thoroughly enjoyed you reading it.
-
-
Hi, I’m Sadie. Living in Israel, but grew up in the states, in Maine and Arizona.
Really pleased to have gifted myself with y’all. Excited for what I don’t know is to come.
The Beaver is the largest rodent in North America. While known for their impressive building skills, most are unable to operate a backhoe.
-
-
Looks like the file didn’t upload, so here’s a link :)
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1D3fO-hdoUKdJCDUnGV8XoeyCW8ICOO2rs6U1gtMBIqg/edit
-
-
-
-
-
This is brilliant, Sadie.
-
really fresh voice and unique writing style. I feel like I am not smart enough to read this.
Repetition never proved me right
Or took me home
Or bought me drinks
All it’s good for
Is stubbornness
And last straws
And chiseling away at something I know to be true until it shows throughWhat are you talking about here?
I’m trying to understand
-
Hi Ryan! Thank you, it prob needs some work to be less opaque :)
That chunk is about showing up to a practice, how there’s no instant or ego gratification in it. How it takes stubbornness to keep showing up to something you want to work on when you don’t see any change or results
-
-
-
“Try holding your pregnant belly of incomplete, insistent whispers
And rocking, keeping
Shuffling their murmur and hush over your own teeth and lips
mimick back and imagine
they’re scheming your fortune and bliss”LOVE the imagery and emotion in this piece
-
-
Hi everyone,
I’m Patrick. I go by that, or Pat, or Patty or Patches depending on who’s asking. Then there was that time Buddy misheard “Patches” for “Peaches” when I got him to sign a book in 2014, so given the event I feel it’s only fair that “Peaches” is also on the table. I live in Toronto, Cananda.
I’ve never had a favourite factoid, but I did get to lookin’ and learned that broken Kit Kats that are damaged during production actually get ground up and go back in between the wafers of the Kit Kat. Kit Kat-ception.
I haven’t written anything in 7 years (the below, completely unfinished piece is the last thing) and I’m uncomfortable already. Lookin forward to hanging out with you all :)
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1kGWmmoime399DTwMj6ZPzusV-Nrr5QPwSkTFMgy2Jis/edit?usp=sharing
-
-
-
“Whoever tagged it there
missed Mikey a lot
You could tell
from the way the last letter of his name
was shaped like a wishbone
begging him to come back”That line hit me. Great poem!
-
this piece made me think a lot. hearing you read it added exceptional value to the weight of the moment described in the piece. there was note buddy gave about the end, about tying it back to something more personal. it would be interesting to see you explore that, to explore your connection to this tagged memorial. i find this piece to be sentimental in a way that i find very endearing. i appreciate the capturing of small moments like this.
-
-
Hi! I’m Matador (they/he). Ignore any other name… that’s the only one I use outside of $dayjob and immediate family :)
Grew up in Louisiana and Florida. Lived in Florida for 21 years, and now I’m living in Louisiana again, just outside Lafayette.
Factoid: Humans have stripes (called Blaschko’s lines), but they are invisible under most circumstances.
-
-
-
-
The entire poem had me gripped. So much nuance there. Thank you for sharing this profoundly personal moment with us.
-
kudos to human stripes. they terrify me.
this poem is devastating. putting the trauma and emotion of the poem aside for a moment, this piece gets so close to drawing a juxtaposition between the distortion of memory and what remains of the car. i wonder if you can explore that more, how our memories of things shift and contort with the passage of time. i also noticed that the only real hint of romance is when you use the word ‘kissed’ to describe a portion of the accident — curious if this is intentional. would be interested to see you explore that more.
challenging to give notes on a piece this, appreciate you sharing.
-
-
Grayson here (he/him/dad/sir pronouns). Currently located in California. Some lilies mean “I dare you to love me”.
-
Grayson! I’m so glad you & your work are here. Your factoid is a poem on its own btw.
I am curious about the last part where the poem seems to change direction and head into gratitude and some kind of homecoming. Which is to say: I loved this poem but don’t understand the ending.
-
I totally get what you are saying now that I revisit it. I’m not sure what that is, I was moving with the words, and that’s where they took me. But this is good to know, I have to sit on this and maybe can hear more from you on Sunday.
-
Felt to me like it was the reinforcement of food as an ultimate, primal comfort. Even though everything that led the poem felt more about the tragedy of what certain meals meant in a social context, I felt like when you came around with all the gator symbolism, it almost felt like… You know, on this reptilian level, in the self that precedes all social context, there is still a comfort in the act of consumption, of persisting.
-
-
-
Grayson, my man.
Seems I put my comment for Matador in the wrong spot and I can’t seem to sort it.
I do want to say, I love this piece and I’m over the moon that you’re here.
-
Talk about packing heat. So much imagery comes up for me as I’m reading it. I agree that the poem could possibly be 2 pieces? Maybe from “one of the biggest things a human can feel is hunger” on. I found myself wanting to be left to sit with the haunting feelings of the first 2 pages.
-
wow. okay, so you pulled me in with the title. fat kid at heart here. and then you handed me every lesson i’ve ever learned about expectation. i need more time to sit with this, there’s a lot of gold in here. the best note i can give off the top is to get rid of this line, “I’ve always been scared of food poems” — remove that idea from the top of the poem. this is a food poem but it absolutely is not a food poem, and so much as you might have been scared to write one, you wrote the hell out of this.
-
-
Hi all, Bria here in Manhattan. She suite of pronouns.
In order for a show to be considered a Broadway show, amongst other things, it has to be happening in one of about 40 theaters in a couple blocks radius here in NYC. Moreso, that theater has to have 500+ seats. 99-499 seats in the city is considered off-Broadway. 98 and fewer is considered off-off-Broadway.
It’s tricky to carry generational worry
In a rucksack filled with light
Though not impossible
She started with a cliche
Couldn’t help it. Didn’t want to either
Some moments were made with these words in mind
She leaned into it
Created sustenance fueled by those who thought nothing of her
Saw their limitations in their pallor
And kept on
She knew good catfish is a hard catch in high rise cities
Takes a bus ride and some humility to source
Put on the combination of comfortable, form fitted
Professional dancers have just *chef’s kiss*
And slate for every time I kiss recklessly
Now settle in
Look up
It’s a good rule of thumb when I’ve been lost
Nico and I played rock paper scissors like that one day
A good egg that one
Read the telepathy I’d been puttin’ out all afternoon
We work for fun. Might as well lean into the play
It all becomes too serious otherwise
I didn’t survive the worst of what you handed me
Only to pick it apart and find more woe
It’s not me
It was what i needed to launch off of though
I told you. Look up
I’ve confounded teachers keeping me safe
By climbing a little higher
Check the fundamentals
And plummet
It’s not a synonym for death
Rather exhilaration
Once I was told I have the audacity to speak
Those synapses catalyzed something
I know mediocre white men take for granted
I resolved to have it too-
Bria, you’re astounding. Glad to have you here.”She knew good catfish is a hard catch in high rise cities” Now that line is truly *chefs kiss*
Looking forward to reading you every week <3
-
-
“Once I was told I have the audacity to speak
Those synapses catalyzed something
I know mediocre white men take for granted
I resolved to have it too”yessss.
-
-
Hi. You can call me Codi. (He/His)
From Kansas City, Missouri – Currently living in Mauritius.
Fun Fact: A group of pandas is called an embarrassment.
VERY EXCITED TO GET TO KNOW ALL OF YOU! Like for real. Very pumped for all of this.
Cheers.
-
-
-
-
“she naively thought I was the first, I just hoped I’d be the last”
so. much. there.
-
damn, this is tremendous. love the format. writing is crisp and clean.
-
-
I like how Lisa, who went first, introduced herself.
I’m following her lead [thanks Lisa].
I’m Seth. You should call me Seth. Or London’s Dad.
Glad to be here. Looking forward to learning.
My ‘amazing facts’ are hidden within my poem. BW taught me that.
-
-
Great piece. I found myself searching whether the poem was about you or someone you knew?
-
-
Hello! I’m Danielle.
From Seattle, WA but currently find myself in a farmhouse south of Munich in Germany.
Fact: there are 6 ways to say “the” in German. So help me god.
Very excited to be able to do this workshop and to see all the awesome work people do. I’m hoping to find my edge again.
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1KUbucNw3DzNCQMND-eL3p5Rh3gdda3xjPvSgjJC0OyM/edit?usp=sharing
-
-
“I notice the starfish we hung on the wall is off-center, but then realize it was never meant to be in balance.” Great line
-
-
Hi, I’m Lou. You can call me The Louniverse or Lou.
But, the LouniverseFactoid: “Being late is the same as being on time, only later.” ~ Me
SUBMISSION:
DOGGED DAYS
Today the buzzards hovered by the dozens in the mountains
Something was laying dead in the morning sun
Or was about to die
I drove past wondering if a dead deer was about to be breakfast or if a rabbit had ventured out at the exact wrong time
There was a dog walking loose on the road and then it disappeared into the woods
First I was worried it could come back and attack me
But it never did
And before I left the area I found myself wondering what the dog might be up to
All alone wandering the forest
Was it just pissing and shitting around
Marking territories and sniffing to see who else had been there?
Was it happy to be alone and free to go and do as it pleased?
I was jealous of the dog before I left
And now many hours later sitting alone staring cross-eyed into the wash of a light bulb trying to get a good glimpse of the floaters and electric static squiggles in my sight
I wonder if this visual damage will ever go away and if it’s even really damage at all
Are these things supposed to be here?
Or is every floating amoeba in my sight a burst of white light or magnesium incendiary from my past?
How free is that dog from earlier today?
Is he still out there?
Am I free? Or more free than a loose dog?
My belly is full
My head has a roof over it
My shit and piss is flushed away nicely, for the benefit of all mankind I’m sure
If I had a dog’s freedom what would I do with it if not this?
The squiggles reappear and then I blink and they’re gone until my eyes dry up again and they’ll surely be back
They always come back
Did the dog just follow his nose or was he standing in the shadows of tall trees enjoying the sunrise?
If given total and complete choice I feel like I’d still choose this level of freedom I currently sit in
I wonder if I’ll see my buzzards when they’re hovering over head-
“The Louniverse” haha! love it. Great to meet you.
-
-
Hi Folks,
I’m Brenden, I go by Brenden or Bren and I use they/them/theirs pronouns. I am from Southern California, commuting between Riverside and San Diego. Fun factoid, in Northern California, in the town of Eureka, there’s a Sequoia Park Zoo and they’ve recently built a “Redwood Sky Walk” in which you can walk across bridges from tree to tree from 100 feet above the forest floor. I can’t wait to go!
So excited for this workshop and to be witnessed by and witness everyone else.
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1VFR-s4XnQ4KsKxrE-pUpSvSF1ct37r_mQKGHUPuKXUg/edit?usp=sharing
-
Hi Everyone
Call me Kate. That’s who I am. I am obsessed with Siphonophorae. Large complex organisms that appear to be an individual but is actually a colony. It starts with one body, but then grows by asexuallly producing many more small bodies that all remain attached. Up to 40 meters long – thats longer than a blue whale. Mythical creatures of the deep that are real. Magic is possible. I think we humans are an air version. If only we’d notice. Darwin was a lier. Cooperation is the only route to survival. Looking forward to taking the Buddy ride together! -
Hey everyone! My name is Cami (pronounced like Amy but Kay-me…blame my Wisconsin family for the long “a”). I use she/her/hers pronouns. Called a lot of places home but am currently living in St. Louis, MO. Apologies for the delay in saying hello.
Factoid: Otters hold hands while they sleep in the water so they don’t drift away from one another.
Was scared to sign up so thought I should most definitely do it. Looking forward to being with you all.
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1NQ8kboGrp1OWYNW73q6x2d9dCqlcYc1m275LHFbLwaM/edit?usp=sharing
-
-
-
Hi everyone :)
I’m Chloë (She/her) and I live in Scotland. I’m so grateful to be here with you all.
Fact: Dogs purposely sneeze when play-fighting to show it’s not a serious fight.
https://docs.google.com/document/d/15qAQ30FyXtRpbV42rP3QL9vG7JxVMhsJnfevZzwKzpc/edit?usp=sharing
-
Hello, I’m SallyAnn! I’m a (American) midwestern gal living in Maine. Not exactly a factoid, but multitasking is a myth – multitasking is actually task-shifting, and it reduces focus, production, and productivity.
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1FOPUHw_6we3GptnqiniUZvVOm7v6mLecrmLcFUcVCYU/edit?usp=sharing
-
A note to Buddy: I am traveling all day on 11/21/21 so cannot participate on day 1 – not for lack of want! I almost didn’t sign up for this workshop bc of my travel plans but when I saw that everything will be recording I decided to take the LEAP OF FAITH! I look forward to catching up, participating, and being DEEPLY uncomfortable because THAT IS WHEN WE GROW. <3 <3 <3
-
-
I love this, Kate.
Grateful to take another BW ride with you!
-
I’m Sean Cardinalli, living in Albuquerque and from Northern Cali, screenwriter/creative writer/life coach, knower of John Kim about 20 years, which is wild in hindsight. A few years before the pandemic, I was flown out to see Prince’s 2nd to last concert ever, in Oakland, CA and in that same weekend consummated an old college flame’s mutual crush. We luxuriated in the music, the conversations, the food, our bodies, giggling about our undergraduate memories, our younger selves, and also thrilled to be coming back together again as adults. It was purple-tinged joy for a weekend.
Also, I fucking submitted an old piece of prose I dusted off. I’m sorry. I didn’t know if this was gonna be prose or poetry or both, and I literally have no poetry just “lying around.” I’ll see if some is entombed in the deeper caves of my hard drive. If this is poetry only, I’ll be sure to submit that form for next week’s review. -
I know… Im late, but something about a stumbling upon this so last minute makes it seem that much more important.
My name is Kaden, I’m from Michigan but I have been bouncing around lately and somehow landed in Maryland.54% of Icelanders believe elves exist. I like those odd.
Here is my “work” lol. it’s more like my soul letting off some steam. Hopefully this suffices. I’ll tidy up next week for you.
excuses for divinity;
Photographs from the other world
Fairies call you under
while you sleep
submerged in a subconscious dissociation from the selfyour rotted crotch pleads for attention
as the divine feminine lays dormant inside
sending you playful dreams— about a childhood you don’t remember experiencingwalk on dirt in the sky
a mental breakthrough
a clearing of the clog above the crown
she dug some kind of hole to the center of the earth
to her surprise found the soul lay bare
call it striking gold
as if it were worth anything outside of this casm belowTonight we feast like kings on the things we’ve left unseen
Magic resides in the belly but swims all the way up out of the throat
into something we that’s tangible—almost clean
the beast on the table
Resembles a new born baby
before the pricks
and the prodsthe universe slips this realization it into
my morning coffee
begging to be sweet and black and burnt
all at once -
Hi my name is Justin, I’m a writer, author, poet from New Jersey! My stage name is Johnson Soldout, feel free to follow me on Insstagram or TikTok (@JohnsonSoldout) I would love to have more writer friends. I look forward to our time together!
Random Fact: Humans are the only animals that blush.
-
-
Justin, please ignore the above comment. I had a glitch while typing feedback for you. I’ll do my best to remember what I said.
The stanza about the older gent was so well crafted! You provided enough detail that I am sure I know this man. What town doesn’t have the older gent leaning up against a brick wall offering loose wisdom at night under a buzzing light and 1000 mosquitos? The line about the library gave the man an added depth like, what has this man BEEN through/seen/learned from. This was so well-done!
-
-
Hi all,
My names Ahmed. Glad to be here again for another one of these. Even gladder to see some familiar faces.
The worlds deadliest creature is a jellyfish that made up of nearly 98% water. At what point do you stop being death and start becoming the ocean. At what point do you become what you keep yourself around and stop being yourself. At what point does a jellyfish get existential about it’s own shit.
I know I’m coming in under the wire so not expecting any feedback this week. That said I’ll still share something. This is an old piece I put together in the last workshop I did with Buddy.
Buddy (or Kara) if you catch this, I won’t be able to attend the first two weeks due to some prior commitments but aim to catch up on the zoom recordings and be there for all the remaining.
Thanks for having me
-
-
Ahmed, my man! So glad you’re here.
‘There is a boy’ still slams.
-
-
Hola everyone!
I’m way too late to the party… but I’m excited for the workshop today :)I’m Charlotte, from Sweden but moved a little bit of everywhere and now I’m living between Berlin, Germany and Lagos, Portugal.
Where I’m from in Sweden we get 3 hours of daylight during winter, so that’s fun.Not expecting any feedback on this since I’m LATE.
https://docs.google.com/document/d/18Mwua9wK_EfjttwOfT8Ob4yEFY4S5seNiZN8Fyfd78s/edit-
Charlotte, I’m massively envious of your ability to write simply and clearly. The vulnerability is tangible in a way I want my writing to be. Excited to read you in the coming weeks. Glad to have you.
Ahmed
-
-
Hello all I am Pete from Long Island NY, meditation doesn’t give you street cred. I have one piece that I’ve been working on since the last workshop from the prompt “what is the war that needs to end”.
-
Addiction is a tricky bitch
love this, reminded me a lot of conversations Ive had with myself for many years. You are better than you think
stanza #2 packed the most heat for me, that being said “crimes in perpetuity” seemed a little out of place to my given the rest of the language in the poem.
-
Thanks Ryan! yeah man I’m trying to open the piece up a little. I’m looking forward to working on it this coming sunday.
-
-
-
Hi everyone, my name is Autumn and I go by my birth name, Autumn. My body feels like an Autumnal season, full of emotional winds. I live in the U.S., a small town in NE Washington state.
I have studied Compassionate Inquiry with Gabor Mate regarding reconnecting with our true self for over a year. My favorite quote from him is as follows:
“Trauma is not what happens to you, it’s what happens inside you as a result of what happened to you. Trauma is that scarring that makes you less flexible, more rigid, less feeling and more defended.”I am excited to be here with you all, and to hear your powerful voices that are so needed in this world.
Blessings~
-
Autumn,
I am a fan of Gabor as am I a fan of your line, “Doubt is a distraction from love” I wonder what would happen if you were able to weave it near the top? and then list the examples of WHY this is true for YOU. Like the mother always said, cinnamon, line. What is YOUR truth when you aren’t busy protecting your mother/her feelings and or hiding behind big emotions?
The thing I love so much about the editing process in my own work is that I get to overcome the superficial layers that present in anger or avoidance or whatever the emotion happens to be. Sometimes, anger IS the poem, (but then set that shit on FIRE) and if that is the poem you REALLY wanted to write here, how can you coax the vulnerability it takes to free it from it’s hiding place that you’ve been keeping safe in your body.
Writing for me, is very similar to acupuncture in terms of the ladling of each layer that needs to be dispelled or held until i can give it back to the heart of the universe.
You’ve got so much here, I cannot WAIT to see the trajectory!
-
-
Name: Reed Jackson (He | him | his)
Location: Crockett, TX
Fact: The first canned good to arrive to Samoa was pea soup. Ever since, all canned goods are called “peasoupa”.I discovered Buddy in Austin in the fall of 2019. Going to see his show woke something up inside me. This urgent need to create something with words.I have not done a ton of writing since the last (first?) workshop in March 2020, but this is from a piece I wrote then.
Loving you was like amnesia.
An ex porcupine still grasping for quills.
Just be kind.
Asshole.
I loved you so much.
Your tulips are starting to sprout.
I wish you could see the ocean you opened after the levy finally broke.
In each of us.
Standing there.
Alone.
An American flag folded so tightly it ironed out every queer or messy piece of you.
A hero.
Their hero.
Maybe next time.
A nightmare ballet. -
-
-
Hello! Hella late to the sign up! I’m Jamie (she/her) and I live in Seattle. After writing obsessively for nearly a decade I abruptly stopped 5 years ago. I have no new work to submit for review, but I’ll include one of the last things I wrote. A piece about my father. I’m taking this class to reignite my ability to put all these ideas onto paper. Fun FACTOID….. 90% of the foods humans eat come from just 30 plants.
Braving Goodbye
On the day you say goodbye to him
Your breath will catch high in the noose of your throatYour guillotine teeth chopping off the long neck of your moans
Pushing back down to the sound proof chamber of your bellyThere you keep the memories and food you can no longer digest
Stress can cause the body to reject what is good for itBodies can confuse hearts
I once confused fear with devotion convinced the sparrows to forgo migration
Paid them to stay in seeds of yarrowLater, realized my fear of worms fueled my love for those birds
One day the yarrow seeds sprouted in their bellies and flowers grew out their eyes roots from their beaks and their wings sprouted leavesThey were grounded, tongue tied to the earth but this was not my intention
The worms came anyway sustained from bird carcass
Do not forget that there are some flowers that do not require soil to thriveIf you find yourself indignant and starving
Collect your tears
Dry them to salt the ice road aheadIt will lead you somewhere wonderful or miserable
You will not know until you get thereThe edge of your new mountain view with it’s young sprouting seeds will remind you of his stubble chin
Sharp and invitingDo not crumble pillar and base
Look back and remember regret is a flavor stronger than vinegarIt can also dissolve rust from iron
Can be used to restore-
Marlow,
I really felt this line…”I once confused fear with devotion convinced the sparrows to forgo migration” more lines like this. please! I love the ownership/growth that I feel in this line. a perspective, if you will.I would challenge you to put yourself in the poem via pronouns… ex
“On the day you say goodbye to him
Your breath will catch high in the noose of your throat”The day I said good-bye to him
my breath catching/caught itself on the noose of my throat
as guillotine teeth chop off the long neck of my moans….i am not sure what the line, “bodies can confuse hearts” mean so naturally, I am very curious to know! :) THank you!
…..something along those lines. there are opportunities for this to have a second look throughout the poem.
-
-
Hello, I’m Clarity. I’m from Long Island, NY but currently live in an old mining town in California known as Nevada City..
Did you know that if you ignore the urge to poop you will eventually lose that urge all together?
here is something I’ve been working on. It has no title.
[Uuntitled]
wonderful pentacles
tentacles ache in the wake
of evolution
a blooming nothingness
is splintering the sky
posted
poised
drifting on a coffee buzz
mercymercimercymercimercymercimercy
FEAR NEVER LOOKED SO GOOD
mercimercymercimercymercimercymerci
language, languid and lingering
lost to steam then chips – nowthisnowthisnowthisnowthisnow
it is midnight
in the house of defiance
those taped wrists
are no longer enough
there is a hostage crisis on
the evening news
his mouth moves
says nothing
the call is coming from
inside the housebranches break as if to warn
of a coming storm
the wind sweeps like
reconciliation
and with it
the danger of hope
a stranger approaches
and says
“we don’t use words
like that”I was misinformed about
your intentions
the sharpened edge
of the moment
bleeds through
pierces breath
then flesh
until
there is nothing
until there is nowget into it
the night is not a eulogy
for the day
the day is not a spider
in a cup
circling
or being circled
by shadows fleeting
as if every allegory
were a ransom note
set to detonate
the very moment mysteries
are revealedthe hour is no different from
the year
in the same way
the light is no different from
the dark
“so whatchu gonna do
with it?” she asked
and all I could think to say was
baby, I’m gonna watch
the water roll down
watchthewaterrolldownwatchthewaterrolldown -
-
Aloha
My name is Justin. I once was born right as the doctor arrived in the room. He commented just in time and I never really thought it til last year when living in LA I found myself unintentionally around the pseudo healer crystal plant medicine coke suger daddy healer tribe. I wasn’t there for long but they all had funny strange names they have named themselves because I guess its embarrassing to be a fake in your real name? Truth, Lucifer, Swan, Venus… I was thankful in the moment when the circle introducing themselves got to me, maniacal smiles and borderline engaged eyes… I don’t believe in pressure but thats because I’m always Justintime!Did you know that when you snap the sound made is actually your finger hitting your palm. Try it ;)
-
Attached not to technology obviously 🙄
-
Hi! I’m Ryan (He/Him) from Texas.
several native amazonian tribes translate money as “sad leaves”
SO FUCKING STOKED TO BE HERE
The Deer
The deer sharpened his horns all summer
White points grew into ground
Slowly at first
Tip toe
Tap root dug deep
Thick fur buckled and cracked
Horns twisted
The changing tree watched
The other deer as they danced and wondered
Will they know me anymore?
Me and my toughness
My lack of run and hide from hunter
How still he wept
For what once was
Watering what was becoming
Aquifer roots
Sharp horns split to proud branches
wide shade
legs growing tall and stout
The wind
Passed through
The wood and whispered
“What you were is gone already,
Love what you’ve become” -
-
-
-
Hi, I’m Nathan. I’m from Seattle, and in case you didn’t know, penguins have adapted to sacrifice sustainable, efficient flight in order to pursue the abundant prey items occurring at great depths. I’m sorry I’m late. It’s been a hell of a couple weeks but I’m so happy to be here! I don’t expect any kind extensive review due to my timing, but here is a song I wrote recently that my band is just starting to put into our rotation.
Spun
A ghost hunts home, a rest to come after
The soul spins bone from flesh thin wovenAlive with a revenant pulse, cold and keen
Sirens singing round your head
Ringing bells in your sleepThe ghoul roams long, its quest a cancer
The road has spun portals to strange starsA life for the revenant cause, gaunt and bleak
Anthem pounding in your head
Drones dirges for your dreamsCan’t quite shake the feeling
Hives swarm beneath your being
Skin mask pale and peeling
You pick the scabs until we hear yourPitiful rebel roar
Taunting the abyss to kick your teeth in
All to feed this
Gruesome sort of crucible
Rhythmic palindrome tremors your voice with
Promises poisonCan’t hide from the reasons
Scarecrows come a swinging
Bright looms blooming deep with
Conspiracies to keep you reeled inCan’t outrun the reaper
Harvest is in season -
-
Hi there, my name is Chris Cambell (He/They). I’m a non-binary, pansexual native American with ADHD who has been living as an immigrant in the UK for 10.5 years now. I’ve lived in 38 states in the USA (my parents were hippies and criminals so we were always drifting due to good vibes or bad ones) but always say I’m from Chicago because it’s where I lived the longest and the only place I’ve ever really felt home. I’m married and have 3 kids.
FACTOID: Peeing on a jellyfish sting does not help. In fact, it will often make the pain worse.
***
I love Chicago
and when I say I love Chicago
I don’t say it the way you do
like all the fakers and phonies
who have never seen the city
at its worst, have never had
a Holden Caulfield style spiral
through the seediest disappointments
on offer, have never felt the weight
of being a catcher in the rye
full of earnestness but speaking
only in facsimiles so oft repeated
that they’ve lost their definition
yet remain on mission
determined to catch
every one of us
that might fallor find themselves cutting through
a high rise building site, on the south side
after midnight, in a sweaty catering tux
with a backpack full of foil wrapped filet
mignon and chocolate ganache covered truffles
only to stumble into trouble,
six SUVS parked in a circle,
facing inward, black on black
paint, white headlights highlighting violence
as two men fight with knives in a ring
and suddenly you’re seen,
shouts fly out for you to stop
but your feet don’t listen
until you’ve ran so far and hard
you can’t hear anything over the
beat of your heart, full of fear
and adrenaline but somewhere,
stuck to the lining of arteries
there’s that love for this city.Hell, I even love Wrigleyville
on game days with its endless
waves of drunken douche canoes
fist bumping, chest thumping
not caring the Cubs always lose
the points aren’t the point
it’s the poetry of overpriced
everything, of tourists getting sick
in the stands, season ticket holders shouting
about how terribly the other team’s gonna do
or college students watching from
neighbouring roofs just tall enough
to offer a view over the walls
of good old Wrigley Field.I learned to love
the Gold Coast while
grooming dogs owned
by Oprah’s staff,
women so rich they
wear open silk robes
to answer the door
when you pick them up
women so rich they
don’t think of the
young man in worn
jeans and thrift store
plaid as human enough
to cover up for
after all,
he’ll soon be
hand-mixing flax seed,
bee pollen, and custom
formulated dog feed
before deftly emptying
Chichi’s anal glands
in the doggy daycare office.
The one next to the mid-range stripclub
where the dancers always wave
hello to me on their way in for the early shift.And while the magnificent mile
is mainly for tourists and sadists
I have begrudgingly come to care
for more there than just
Ghirardelli’s chocolate,
Garrett’s Popcorn,
and Giordano’s Deep Dish.
Have shared many a meal
with the city’s pimple population,
people hurting and homeless,
used to be being ignored
at best and abused as standard;
A good day sees them sleeping
on the el train squealing,
spouting sparks that scuttle
into the dark corners of side streets
looking up admiring those few moments
of peace painted on their faces
as they pass on by.I love Chicago so much that
some part of me never left,
spent the last 11 years haunting
me so that anytime I dare
question whether I will ever
see that stubborn place again,
I will remember, that
she’s not done with me yet.-
-
This took me on a great ride, friend. Just an FYI I’m not sure that the word doc attachment actually worked out as intented (at least I don’t see an attachment).
If I can make a suggestion:
“six SUVS parked in a circle,
facing inward, black on black
paint, whiteheadlights highlighting violence
as two men fight with knivesin a ring”Maybe consider removing the strikethrough’d part? For me those extra words just interrupted the rhythm a little bit.
For the last part maybe even “headlights highlighting violence of two men fighting with knives”.
-
-
-
-
I’m Danni. I got nothing… which leaves a lot of room for growth.
I’m a PA girl living in Jersey – which just means I know how to shoot deer and drink beer while wishing – as Buddy would say – I could hug the ocean.
See you all in class.
-
Oh – and about the factoid… my eight year old daughter gets a kick out of (which means I benefit from residual enjoyment) that babies have more bones than adults.
-
-
-
Hello there! My name’s Jackson, but you can call me Jack. I’m from California, but my mother is an immigrant from Hyderabad, India!
Fun fact: The difference between a us humans and a chimpanzee is merely 1% of our entire genome. Meditate upon that.
-
Hi all,
(Trying again? For some reason my posts don’t seem to show up from all yesterday, but maybe this’ll work if very belated…)
Shalom here. Originally from Indonesia, but currently kicking it in NYC. Sorry for the late post. Also for some reason I’m having trouble replying in thread, so I’m trying here.
One fun factoid: Mountain goats want your pee.
Poem here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/17Dx6mH7bEWsnDJ1P6OpXj3Kpag1G9ZZBcKipjwKy1Ak/edit?usp=sharing
-
When I first learned to ride a bike, I kept falling over with
every
turn
of the wheels
As if the side of my body was pulled down by the cruel chains of a universe whose laws forbade my endeavors.
Fall after fall, I grew impatient with myself.
How could something with two wheels stand up on its own?
“I’ll never ride a bicycle again,” I declared.
Until I did.
One day, I tried to ride down a shallow hill.
I kept pedaling, and
mysteriously kept moving forward.
My heart felt light.
I rode upon
the wind itself that day.Once I was chained down
by my own self-doubt the way astronauts are
glued to their seats during takeoff
as the hand of a god threatens to crush their chests for daring to enter their heavenly kingdom.
But the hand eventually lifts.
The chains break.
I am weightless. -
Hey, everyone. MY name is Jess but my pen name is J. Andersen. I’m born in New York but Florida is the old home base. Now I’m in Colorado. One fact I absolutely love is that it is illegal to parallel park your elephant on the public streets in Florida. Because, obviously, it’s insanely popular to parallel park your large wild animal. Totally.
-
Hi Everyone
I’m Martin (He/Him), white British originally from London, now living in the mountains of North Wales.
Fact – human technology cannot make a material as thin and strong as spider silk.
Apologies for joining late. My work shift got changed last Sunday.
I’m enjoying reading everyone’s work.
Here is the poem I submitted –
Sonnet for White Extermination 1*
When John Coltrane and Nina Simone each lend
me a voice I am immediately seasick. Ms Simone’s
saliva excoriates my palate and Mr Coltrane’s tone
gives me a nosebleed. I didn’t expect to get the bends.
Should have asked for Sinatra or Brubeck – I spit
between bouts of nausea kneeling over the toilet sink –
bitterly tasting the realisation that at least this way the first
song of my new repertoire is from the gut. Retched gurgles
projectile scat authentically extempore my voice into birth.
Burbling gagged gospel I gasp – desperately attempt to master
it – write it down – but my lexicon can’t contain the scale
of this humanity – even the vacant spaces between the words
seem more meaningful than the words themselves until – at last –
I am quelled – and in silence begin to sing as my final white breath fails.*After Terence Hayes
-
It feels like you’ve written this from your heart. I admire that.
-
Hi, I’m Dennis (he/him), and I am afraid.
Your foot is the same size as your forearm.Lost my dad at the beginning of the year. He was a traumatized man and was very abusive to my siblings and I, but he was also very charming in his goofy way. I wrote this little song to eulogize his mysterious presence in the world, titled “Kimya Dawson and Wesley Willis”.
Dad mixed and mastered
On low fidelity tapedecks
For his little bastards
Who at the time couldn’t care lessHe went like summer
Gone too soon, but don’t fret
He fell asleep there
Left in an instantI love when he plays with the dials
But I don’t know where the sound comes from
He can only play when his back is numbYou’re probably wondering
“Why’d he call this song that?”
“Who’s Kimya Dawson? Who’s Wesley Willis?” -
-
Hey all! Late to the party, but glad to be here. I’ve enjoyed reading everyone’s pieces from Week 1 and the factoids too!
I’m Sarah (she/her) originally from Hawaii, now in Las Vegas.
Factoid (about Hawaii): Prior to the arrival of Christian missionaries in 1820, Hawaii had no written language; births, deaths, genealogy, battles, history, stories, etc. were passed from generation to generation orally via songs, chants and poems.
*Update: For some reason Word doc is not being taken here so sharing via Google docs https://docs.google.com/document/d/15JYJ2tlcVHpD_hh77aLLn3xe8RBzVCqns04pVKX-MOw/edit?usp=sharing
-
- The forum ‘Hauled Off and Hit – Workshop Forum’ is closed to new topics and replies.