Yes, I am fully aware this is my third update in twenty-four hours. Shut up.

So that creative writing class I was so excited about? It's a poetry class. ::sighs:: So I guess I'll expand my horizons and hope against hope that my class isn't full of emo poets who take themselves way too seriously.
I'm generalizing, I know. I don't care. I want prose.

So here are my first couple of assignments... because I am a narcissist.

Assignment #1: Write a poem. About whatever the hell you want. You have two days. Go.

Newton's Law

Anticipation
Is a bright and shiny
Apple
Crisp and red,
Round,
Polished with optimism

Disappointment
Is the mealy Truth,
An angry bruise,
The grim realization
It came from The Diner

Assignment #2: Write a poem. At least ten lines. Use the 3rd or 11th item on your list from your "triggering town." Use the words "orange," "shrub," "footstool," the name of your town, "tinfoil," and an unanswered question. Title your poem as the last three words of the fifth line up from the bottom. You have ten minutes. Go.

Dollars for Food

There is a two-dollar movie
like a two-dollar whore
standing outside
of the Terrytown Multiplex.
She stands stark in the daylight
orange-red lipstick peeling,
flaking,
like tinfoil on the back
of your grandmother's mirror.

The Multiplex promises
in shining gold lights,
in classy cased posters,
all the luxury
of a warm cushioned footstool
after a hard day's work.
Its sparkling parking lot
Its well-groomed shrubs
Scream ten dollars for tickets
Five dollars for food.

We drive by
on the way to Blockbuster
and wonder how either
stays steadily in business.

ink :: graphite