Poetry Review: Romantic Calculus

In this dreary free verse (the only form she knew), Shannon has all the feminine charm of Hal the Computer, and was probably as much fun to hang out with. Country Boy should have tried to get a date with Piaget instead. (Interesting side note: In addition to his pioneering work in the field of children's education, Piaget was known as a radical kisser.)

Poetry, the Classic Years: Romantic Calculus

One potential boyfriend: romantic calculus: age,
height, weight, state of origin: mental processes, check (standard)--and what is sub-standard.
Hero worship (checking...Jimmy Dean in 1990, accurate to chronological though not sociological age: perhaps even a delayed response to the reality of James Dean as a man.)
Calculating what-all bodes this for me: kissing a country boy on the lips and he kisses well.
Same age as him and I study him as Piaget would
this is what happens when Saturn rules the Eighth.
Throw off the yoke of old-soulism: kiss the boy.

Poetry Review: What Pigs

Shannon's lame attempt at humor in the last line does not lighten this oppressed worker rant in free verse. She was embarrassingly inspired by Studs Terkel (it is said) and, like him, should have just gotten back to work instead of scratching out her class hatred on the client's time.

Poetry, the Classic Years: What Pigs

God I can hardly believe it. What pigs.
Do you believe this underwear?
Rolled like a crepe and stuck in a loafer.
What on Earth possessed her?
This apartment gets on my nerves.
Don't they ever clean the litter box?
Don't they ever hang a towel up?
Don't they ever throw things out?
What possesses them to have so much.
They don't need half of it.
My urge is to throw it out. Just
throw it out--and you know what?
They'd never know the difference.
No, they'd never find out.
Do you suppose she leaves this?
Like bait, on purpose--or not.
God knows she treats money like dirt.
Yet she begrudges a lousy $40.
And what I do for them! Shocking.
You'd think they'd appreciate me.
They think I come with the place.
Probably time to get the laundry now.

Poetry Review: One Glistening Tree

Shannon had no right, by natural law, to write this poem. I couldn't tell whether she felt sorry for the trees, was at one with the trees, or maybe she was just having an anthropomorphic seizure. With verse as girly as this, it's hard to tell.

Poetry, the Classic Years: One Glistening Tree

One glistening tree in arboreal ecstasty
soft autumn morning beams generously
scoots a stirring wind to ruffle and tease
not another tree for seven long blocks,
east, finally, on 42nd there's a tree.
On trains out of town trees are thick
along the track and pleasure in a day
is tossed from each to each, careless
and zoneless as girls and boys at recess.
One tree alone seems to overreact to
sun and wind, no nature to teach it
that these are rights, by natural law

Welcome to my ego. Sit down, if you can find any room.

Hello, Whoever You Are,

This is my first post. I'm a confirmed Luddite who keeps getting dragged further and deeper into the jungles of internet. I have no idea what I'm going to post. I have a blog because my daughter says I must, and what she says, goes.

Actually, I do know what I'm going to post: writings and poems from my "classic years" (I'm like an aging rock-and-roller). What else am I going to do with them? keep them in the keepsake box until my no-nonsense executor kids on bereavement leave throw them away with the rest of my tenderly preserved effects? If I've saved them I must want to do something with them. It makes me sad to think of them in a 50-gallon garbage bin rolled to the curb.

I've also had a idea kicking around for a column for, oh, XX years. I often thought of submitting the idea to Vogue, because it's so stuck-up and snotty and so is my idea, but I'm too lazy. It will be easier just to blog it. But if you ever see it in Vogue, they stole it from my blog. No one would have thought of it but me. (Hint: Sei Shonagon)

I think I'll also scan in some pictures I've drawn. Again, what better fate could they have, now that I have this outlet for my ego AND my id?

Shannon