Don’t Cry Into My Beer

Day 19 Of NaPoWriMo 2018.
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Head turn right
see a red barn
on the left side,
left turn,
turn left,
keep left on Boulevard of dreams.
Keep going west towards ocean beaches,
armed with your deepest desire,
drive for miles
exit ramp out of your nightmares,
arrive at your destination – Three Mugs Brewing
make the right call – order a full pint, drink
without crying into my beer.

Followed today’s prompt by writing direction from my house to brewpub (grocery store didn’t sound that good). Here’s the whole prompt:

Our (optional) prompt for the day takes it cue from Brady’s suggestion that erasure/word banks can allow for compelling repetitive effects. Today we challenge you to write a paragraph that briefly recounts a story, describes the scene outside your window, or even gives directions from your house to the grocery store. Now try erasing words from this paragraph to create a poem or, alternatively, use the words of your paragraph to build a new poem.

Not too happy with the results, I added a few words along the way. Will have to revisit when there is additional time. Here is the prose of the directions:

Head south, turn right and you will see a red barn on your left side. Continue till you come to second signal light. Get into left turn lane and turn left on Bethany Boulevard. Keep Turn left on Northwest Bethany Boulevard. Keep going till you see the sign for US-26 West, take the on-ramp to US-26 West toward ocean beaches. Go for about three and quarter miles. Exit 62A for Cornelius Pass Road South, the ramp will turn you around, merge on to Northeast Cornelius Pass Road. Go for another mile and half and then turn left on NW Aloclek Drive. Your destination call Three Mugs Brewing Company would be on your right. Park you car, walk into the establishment and order a nice pint of awesome oregon beer.


Days Gone By

Day 18 Of NaPoWriMo 2018.

I feel it without being sad at all,
Like the lavendar flowers when you brush against them,
and they trigger a pleasant memory, or
like feathers touching your cheeks,
Or toothpaste giving you fresh minty breath after brushing.

How can you not relish the time we spent together:
Each not minding seeing the other doing not so glamorous morning tasks
Like, brushing and gargling with mouthwash and water
Peeking into each others more intimate routines, like shaving hair
Just the proximity gave us so much pleasure and succor.

But, gone were the days when I last felt so giving –
When her hands were soft and manicured
and her hair tucked into ponytail that poked out of her white visor,
When, we together, fertilized the raised platforms, growing our own produce
Like cultivating heirloom tomatoes, and red chilli peppers amongst other things.

And didn’t she greatly deserved –
Those the roadside ripe blackberries,
Which when plucked and eaten melt in your mouth
With full of sugary goodness. And
Sometimes taking a good book and sitting under the olive tree
Lost in her and in the book, or
Perspiring and fanning her with a cheap, flea market fan.

Sometimes, that is how the universe conspires against you.

Not sure how this read. But, I think there is enough here to put it out there. The prompt was little convulted:

Our prompt for the day (optional as always) isn’t exactly based in revision, but it’s not exactly not based in revision, either. It also sounds a bit more complicated than it is, so bear with me! First, find a poem in a book or magazine (ideally one you are not familiar with). Use a piece of paper to cover over everything but the last line. Now write a line of your own that completes the thought of that single line you can see, or otherwise responds to it. Now move your piece of paper up to uncover the second-to-last line of your source poem, and write the second line of your new poem to complete/respond to this second-to-last line. Keep going, uncovering and writing, until you get to the first line of your source poem, which you will complete/respond to as the last line of your new poem. It might not be a finished draft, but hopefully it at least contains the seeds of one.

The original poem I picked was by I could Touch It by Ellen Bass:

When my wife was breaking apart, my son was falling in love.
She lay on the couch with a heated sack of rice on her belly,
sometimes dozing, sometimes staring out the window at the olive tree
as it broke into tiny white blossoms, as it swelled into bitter black fruit.
At first, I wanted to spare him.
I wished he was still farming up north, tucking bulbs of green onions
into their beds and watering the lettuce,
his hands gritty, his head haloed in a straw hat.
But as the months deepened, I grew selfish.
I wanted him here with his new love.
When I passed the open bathroom door, I wanted
to see them brushing their teeth,
one perched on the toilet lid, one on the side of the tub,
laughing and talking through their foamy mouths,
toothbrushes rattling against their teeth.
Like sage gives its scent when you crush it. Like stone
is hard. They were happy and I could touch it.
The response text worked out this way:

The response text was this written in reverse order:
And feel it without being sad at all
Like the lavendar flowers when you brush against it, like feather
And toothpaste cleaning the teeth giving fresh minty breath
Relishing the time spent together
Each not minding seeing the other doing the not so glamorous morning tasks
And gargling using mouthwash and water
To peek into their more intimate routine
Who gives him so much pleasure and succor
Gone were the days when I was so giving
Her hands soft and manicured and her hair in ponytail with a white visor
Into the raised platforms fertilizing the growing produce
And cultivating heirloom tomatoes, and red chilli peppers amongst other things
For he so greatly deserved it
Nothing like the roadside blackberries, that when plucked and eaten melt in your mouth with sugary goodness
Sometimes taking a good book at sitting under the olive tree, engrossed.
Perspiring and fanning herself with cheap, flea market fan
Sometimes, that is how the universe conspires against you.

I think I find it interesting that the original idea of the original poem, still manages to come through in the above “revision” poem.