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TGAP 3 Week 33 submitted November 16, 2011

Death lurks from behind
The wall of paint. The young
Lovers never knew that first
 
Night they met that he’d be
There always – waiting
For their coming soon.
 
His green hair plastered
Down, he plans for your
Demise over a jar of
 
Mayonnaise. Black spots-
Or is it ink – seal the deal.
A young girl who’ll
 
Stab herself in the breast
Rather than live another
Crypt kept moment without.
 
Gosh, she barely breathed
Three minutes betwixt his
Drink and her awakening and
 
The dagger in the chest
is always a promise
in the mist of the cave.




This is my submission Week 33 of the TwinGeekz Artz Project. 
 

TwinGeekz is a loose affiliation of loose affiliates in New Hampshire who began the TwinGeekz Artz Project challenge in May of 2005; the task was for each of the original seven participants to produce and submit a piece of art every week for one year.  Every artist succeeded in completing their 52 pieces of art, and thus the TGAP theory was proven: “all creativity needs is a deadline”. 


We grew each of the three years that the project continued. It’s time to bring it back.  Join us?

TGAP 3 Week 25 submitted September 18, 2011 Art work “Life’s Chaos” by Photobug Shar.

“Life’s Chaos” by Photobug Shar
At the abrupt brick
Corner of each season,
I am again startled
By your absence.
 
When the birds have raped
Each sunflower of her seeds
And she attempts to twist toward the sun,
The giant, droopy flower
Heads bow, echoing
Me without.

This is my submission Week 25 of the Twin Geekz Artz Project 3. The art work is by fellow Geek Photobug Shar.

TwinGeekz is a loose affiliation of loose affiliates in New Hampshire who began the TwinGeekz Artz Project challenge in May of 2005; the task was for each of the original seven participants to produce and submit a piece of art every week for one year.  Every artist succeeded in completing their 52 pieces of art, and thus the TGAP theory was proven: “all creativity needs is a deadline”. 

We grew each of the three years that the project continued. It’s time to bring it back.  Join us?

TGAP 3 Week 24 submitted September 11, 2011 Art work Koi by Elizabeth Fox

Poems often come to me when I’m moving – walking Sugar or driving my car – for instance. Because of this, I always keep a little notebook tucked in my glove compartment. Today, I’ve decided to submit two poems that I scribbled in the days following September 11th, 2001. Both are unedited from the little notebook I was keeping in my car at the time.

The notebooks also serve as a means to keep the kids entertained. Zoë was just two years old at that time, and the little notebook, with a smiling orange cat on the front, is filled with her drawings, and the messy beginnings of a few lines of verse.

I’ve decided to type up these poems “as is” – keeping even my crossed-out, on-the-spot editings, capitalization or lack of it, original dashes and punctuation, and the carrots that indicated an inserted word. The only revised parts of these poems added today are the titles, which I borrowed from snippets of speeches I heard this morning while watching the observance of the 10 year anniversary of September 11th on ABC.

The first poem, “Descended into Hell on Earth” was written on September 12th 2001. I think I was listening to NPR and their coverage of the poetry that was already being written about what happened the day before. This inspired me to try writing a poem of my own. I just couldn’t stop thinking about Chicken Little.

The second poem, “People Really Do Catch You When You Fall” was most likely written sometime after Sunday, September 16th, the day after Mike & Robyn’s “Yup We’re Still Married” party, at which a number of us geekz were present and feeling quite wounded. It was good for us to be together with people we love so much, even when things got a little out of hand. The first part of the poem is reflecting on that. The second part is reflecting on another party Cameron and I attended around the same time. It was a child’s birthday party at a roller skating rink. Cam and I were skating and holding hands, because he was just learned. He lost his balance and fell, pulling me down with him.

These poems are raw and messy. Maybe someday I’ll do something else with them, but for now, I’m doing what I tell my students never to do: sharing unrevised work with you.

Descended into Hell on Earth
September 12th, 2001

             *line
The sky ↑ is empty –
Now, of the planes,
of the Titanic Tall Towering
          *They
Twins. ↑  have fallen,
And People fell too,
out of the sky
like chicken
little yelled. warned
      *as
And ↑ the sky keeps
falling, we
wait for it
to      drop
the
other
shoe.

People Really Do Catch You When You Fall

I

He fell on me –
drunken, but kind-
Ironically -just switched
to coffee
And stained the
white sweater I’d
protected from
Red wine all night.
My face burned
with caffeinated
liquid and I
felt nothing
Except the burns
of Every body
that dropped w/
the WTC

II

I fell skating
just a couple of
feet. My back,
slightly broken –
reminds me of
the force of falling
110 stories
from the sky.
This morning
on GMA –
A wife told
of how
A body crushed
her firefighting husband.

Koi by fellow Geek Elizabeth Fox

This is my submission Week 24 of the Twin Geekz Artz Project 3.

TwinGeekz is a loose affiliation of loose affiliates in New Hampshire who began the TwinGeekz Artz Project challenge in May of 2005; the task was for each of the original seven participants to produce and submit a piece of art every week for one year.  Every artist succeeded in completing their 52 pieces of art, and thus the TGAP theory was proven: “all creativity needs is a deadline”. 

We grew each of the three years that the project continued. It’s time to bring it back.  Join us?

Week 8 of the TwinGeekz Artz Project 03 submitted May 22, 2011

Man and the Abyss by Kenia Cris

And so, as my heart is breaking,

this I know: anger is

an easy emotion. It masks

Sorrow witnessing

the loss that errs

in your frail body

waving and falling,

too slowly, away from

this tethering earth.

I’d mourn, but fury

is a cloak to guard

against that evil.

A red number that

drapes, lush velvet

to the floor. Dramatic,

it yells, bangs

pots in the kitchen;

is glib when you ask

for help and don’t say please.

And no tears ball up

in the apples of my

cheeks, cause rashes,

eat my flesh. Flesh

out my heart. Yes,

this slow burn is

an Armani gown, flowing

and matching the red carpet

to the Oscars. Best

Actress, that’s me.

No statue this time,

You’ll see.

This is my submission for Week 08 of the Twingeekz Artz Project 3.  The accompanying art work is by guest geek, Kenia Cris.

TwinGeekz is a loose affiliation of loose affiliates in New Hampshire who began the TwinGeekz Artz Project challenge in May of 2005; the task was for each of the original seven participants to produce and submit a piece of art every week for one year.  Every artist succeeded in completing their 52 pieces of art, and thus the TGAP theory was proven: “all creativity needs is a deadline”. 

We grew each of the three years that the project continued. It’s time to bring it back. 

Let’s do it again! #tgap2020 join us!

November 24, 2016

Set up for disappointment,
Sometimes, that is all a holiday is.
Promises of a day set aside
In the year never
compare to glossy movie scenes.

Valentine's Day sells cards,
And heartbreak. Reminders,
You are alone, or worse,
With the wrong one.

Family days in the era
Of the broken family,
The Christmas shuffle -
Make each empty chair,

Needlepoint seats stitched
By a long ago ghost,
Even larger a reminder

Of all that has been lost.

This is Poem #206 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I challenged myself to spend a year in which I’d wake most mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee. By the end of the year,  I had written 241 poems.  Here, I have published second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

September 20, 2016

The dead (our own dead)
Visit in the velvet night
To remind us the shadows
Of them remain and will guide us.

Buried under thin layers
Of snow and memory,
Each waits awhile

During their initiation
Into beyond perhaps, learning
How to haunt gently and without

Touch.

This is Poem #168 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I challenged myself to spend a year in which I’d wake most mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee. By the end of the year,  I had written 241 poems.  Here, I have published second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state. 

September 9, 2016


When young, we are naturally
Faithful. Trusting in ancient
Texts and the promises
Of grown-ups, who

Pass on the myths and stories
They learned as well. But
How, sometimes, the death
Of your ginger cat, shoved

Back under the car with the anguished
And shocked look of coursing
Antifreeze in his viens
Makes doubt a nighttime

Companion - next to imagining
Of the fairy godmother,

Floating outside your window, wings
Fluttering as she notes
You are not sleeping, but
Reading in the dark

Of your Sears Catalogue
Canopy bed and wondering
Why Jesus wanted
Your kitten so soon,

And so cruelly.


This is Poem #163 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I challenged myself to spend a year in which I’d wake most mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee. By the end of the year,  I had written 241 poems.  Here, I have published second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state. 

September 7, 2016

License plate from 1958 Ambulance/Hearse
An ambulance drives by,
Full-speed, sirens yelling,
And the whole class
Pauses from the lesson on the

Screen at the front of the room.
What fresh tragedy pulls them away
From Hamlet or Victor

Frankenstein? School is just
A mile down from
The blue glare emergency
Of the Concord Hospital,

Where, I am quite sure, dying
Happens everyday.

Annotate that, sweet thing.
We are at odds of sort -
Healing or helping,

Doctors or teachers all.


This is Poem #162 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I challenged myself to spend a year in which I’d wake most mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee. By the end of the year,  I had written 241 poems.  Here, I have published second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state. 

September 4, 2016

A wake up call 
At 3am can change
Everything.

When the body next
To you is now just
A body.

What number do you call -
9-1-1 or the morgue?
The police will come, too;

When the stretcher
Rolls out the front
Door and away
From you
Forever.

This is Poem #160 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I challenged myself to spend a year in which I’d wake most mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee. By the end of the year,  I had written 241 poems.  Here, I have published second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state. 

July 5, 2016

According to record, they

Knew how to party. Women

In bobbed hair and fringed

Dresses, heals. Martinis

Champagne, and the looming

Stock market crash. 

Everything’s always better

When the end of things is

Inevitable. (Death comes

eventually, but we fail

to let it spur us on

most days) Glitter falls

From the chandelier and roses – 

Well, we know the cliche –

Love, hell, that’s always 

Trying to burn itself

To the ground. Fuck,

Gatsby, you thought

You’d have it all in

Your mansion with a view

Of the future you’d reclaimed

For a moment. Dead 

In the pool, however, was

All it ever could be. 

Rosecliff_ballroom_Ira_Kerns__de3ff89e-1ea4-4b2c-862f-68e0fa899835

This is Poem #113 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I challenged myself to spend a year in which I’d wake most mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee. By the end of the year,  I had written 241 poems.  Here, I have published second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

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