This is a free-write
I’m supposed to be writing about…Jonathon? Gay(I think that’s his first name)And the honour of denyingauthority of the author (he was a satirist)publishers, politics, etc.an interesting concept,but this class bores meI’ll probably continue to dreamabout soupinstead of “The Art of Walking”
I’m bored
a am bored I don’t want to be here I wonder if my professor thinks I’m taking notes I can’t wait to drive home the drive will be nice in the dark it’s relaxing amidst the huge motor vehicles careening towards each other at speeds that can easily kill but don’t think about how one […]
Must keep to schedule
cannot fall behinddon’t let your bodyor your desiresstop youor even slow you downwe have a curriculumestablished bysomeone or some peoplethat tell usthey have our best interests in mind
I probably should start reading
some of these poems assigned for this class so that I could write something somewhat constructive during these free-write sessions rather than scribbling away meaninglessly and uselessly. I wonder if my professor ever sees me writing so quickly and intently and gets excited or hopeful that I’m making some sort of insight. Sorry. Not sorry.
“Free-Write: Formulate a theory as to why “The seasons” was so popular, given what we know about 18th century England.
This is hard for me to do, seeing as how I neglected—chose to neglect—reading this poem. Things I decided to do instead of reading “The Seasons”: Drive home, make peppered tofu with peppers and onions, eat said tofu, watch The Master of Disguise, have sex, sleep, go to work, drive my friend to work, do […]
Pen wanders to the page
Mind wonders about this day in ageSilly rhymesTo pass the timeTo fill linesSitting on my assIn this purgatorial class
How I really feel about 18th century British Poetry
I really don’t fucking give a fucking rat shit about fucking Windsor fucking Forest by Pope. Fuck.
isolate a problem
set boundariesbuild your vitrine around itexaminestudybackwardsforwardsflip, reverseanalyzetry old algorithmslook for new patternscan we hold onto reason?or must it be abandoned?shall we begin the guesswork?grab a vice ifthis gets too unrulywhere’s the solutionwhere’s the solution fucksmash the glasspour a glassdraw the curtainsturn off the lightslight a candle burn.
The oxymoronicality of a subjective cosmological satire
The chains of apathy hold me upas I latently struggleto break freeinto this world of boundless limitationsI rest tirelesslyhidden in plain sightamidst the light of the nightdreading the darkness of the dawnand all the terrorizingacts of human compassionseeking the solace of lonelinessin my closest companionswondering how a world so beautifulcan look so uglywe are taught […]
Tonight, Life was Hope/Love
Take my hand,And walk with meFor the sake of life.We will walkThrough the shining beams of light,The stretches of darkness.Tonight, we deem destination unnecessary,For our ends lie within our selves.Take my hand,And speak to meFor the sake of life.We can talkOf anything we want,Or nothing at all.Tonight, the subject is us,For we long to share.Take […]
