This poem I am posting is like the pennies that nice people throw into those red containers that salvation army bell ringers stand by, singing Christmas carols badly out of tune

I support this blog. I thought I would show my support by posting a poem. It is about attending a moving musical experience with your best friend. Sorry if it is boring to you because you weren't there. Sorry that you weren't there. Oh yeh, this is Danielle.


Lost in the Trees

There were rumors of live music tonight. We paid
the fee after an antemortem debate
in the parking lot a funeral home.
We would stay if it cost five dollars or less. What about six?
And suddenly, there is an eleven piece folk orchestra playing
on the Tatami mat stage of a Japanese style tea house.
We bargained six dollars down to five, less
than one dollar per instrumentalist.
An Australian man with a prominent nose, who
would end up singing vocals, bend down and told us,
"We are going to need a little more room up front". Still,
we never expected tiny violinists dressed in revival linens.
The leather boots of the accordion player growing roots,
anchoring her to the stage, so she had to bend
at the hips to hit the bells with her mallets.
I did not expect the involuntary sway of my hips
to mime the rhythm of a seated listener's ponytail
in mutual understanding, that their silver-maned drummer
is a conductor on the Northeast Corridor line.
Tonight's Special Tea is a draught of their
chilling choral harmonies, mouths open
like a family of young owls.
The synchronization of their bowing
their picking and
the depression of their finger tips
on nodules of shined metal was
the antithesis of mechanical.
Precision approaching the intrinsically human
reverberation of the heartbeat.
Music to act beautifully to. And she did.
Eyes still locked on the tuba's gleaming rim,
she seamlessly shifted her grey wool coat
beneath her visitor's head, a high-mannered charmer
from Rhode Island, who was unknowingly satiated
by her invisible ability to be everything
to everyone
all at once.

In which we gchat about Tao Lin at length

Kyle, Danielle, and I embarked on a quest to win a free book by the incomparable Tao Lin. The following exchange is what ensued.

Dogcatcher: Issue 1 - this is all (so new) to us

this might more of a joke and less of a poem but who really cares anyway

Keirkagaard loved dead baby jokes
and Hegal liked to make fun of paraplegics.
Schopeneur, he, enjoyed Helen Keller knee-slappers.

-eric

zipadeedoodah

isn't this blog dandy?

Science

Over dinner Dad tells

us he's investigating

the effects of solitude

on flightless birds.

He thinks the results

might let us put a farm

on the moon

one day.

He's letting

the birds dry

out in the yard

covered with tarps.

Please don't say

anything.

You know

how sensitive Dad can be

about his research.

A little internet magic

Well, this is a little bit exciting.
Let me honorably kick things off with a little sonnet I whipped up for my Verse Writing class. Much of the text is taken directly from or inspired by the craigslist 'm4w' (men seeking women) section, hence the title. Yeah!

Craigslist: m4w

Searching for accessible adventure?
If you’re my favorite kind of species
there’s a playground in my brain that you should see.

I’ve been told I look like an intrusion
and my friends consider me to be a man:
my best guess is that I’m slightly handsome.

As long as you prefer the aisle of canned foods
and aren’t ashamed of feeling like a plane
I’ve got amounts of charm to offer.

There are things I want to feel about you—
the way a hive feels when releasing bees—
but first you’ll have to send a recent pic.

I’m here to romance to capacity
and I don’t have time to need a beard.

World: Hello

Howdy, howdy, howdy, all. Behold the snappy new Vassar College Write Club blog-o-site. If you've sufficiently beheld it, read on. Basically, this is for Write Club members (i.e. anyone who's come to a Write Club meeting) to post poems (or prose!) that they want to share, and have the option of people leaving feedback.

I guess the way this works is that in order for people to post, I have to add them as authors to the blog. So Write Clubbers: send me an email (vassarwriteclub@gmail.com) if you're interested in posting, and I will add you to the mix.

For non-Write Club members, welcome! Check us out, and if you like our style, come to our meetings Wednesdays at 8 in Raymond Basement.

Let the literacy begin!