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Write the Year 2024—Week 50 (Belated): Le Scarpette
So I am a week behind (going to have to try to shove something in midweek), and this is a silly Haiku Sonnet about the first meal of the vacation that has just ended for me. I was savoring the last of the simple, but amazing sauce on my meal and the waiter moved to take my plate. I let out the cry of a wounded animal. He looked stricken and said something along the lines of “Oh, no! Le scarpette”…
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Write the Year 2024—Week 49: Late-Night Talkshit
This is a very dumb Minute Poem about insomnia. Not even my insomnia, but a circle-of-hell text chain with my siblings about my mother’s insomnia. Basically, I am now trapped 24/7 in one of the shitty supposed-to-have-been-a-solution-but-deeply-fucked-me-up-way-worse-than-I-was-before-I-ever-sought-a-solution-and-I-will-never-even-get-back-to-before-I-got-fucked-up-by-it sessions. So.…
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Are you listening to TAH still? I think you’d like marshal no more
Definitely still listening to TAH. In fact, did a "comfort re-listen" of each of the series in order this past year. Loved Marshal no More!
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Write the Year 2024—Week 48: Scene From Above
This is very (very) loosely a response to this poetry prompt from Poets & Writers. I’m fairly dumb about visual art (ironic, given where I ply I my trade), but I was thinking about The Floor Scrapers, and Caillebotte in general, as an important piece to me for reasons having more to do with a loved one who is not dumb about visual art and who made me tag along to an exhibit of Caillebotte’s work…
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#Art#Ekphrasis#Gustave Caillebotte#Impressionism#Poem#Poetry#Poets & Writers#Poets Collective#Trine#Write the Year 2024
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Write the Year 2024—Week 47: Hive. Nest. Home.
An Anduo this week. I love this time of year, right down to the forlorn images that are everywhere. That’s all. Title: Hive. Nest. Home.WC: 85 Tatters. Shreds. Flutters from a place, instinct builtNo more underbelly silver for your guiltThis thing you think of as nowhereSturdy as tissue-paper planets in rainLonely as back-fence roses blooming with painBending. Aching. Too much to bear. Like…
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Write the Year 2024—Week 46: Eurydice Reconsiders
Um. What can I say. I had kind of a dark idea for a short story and I turned it into an American Sentence Poem, which is what I do whenever I am especially lazy and behind. Title: Eurydice ReconsidersWC: 176 I have notonceassumed thatyouwould missme,even a little bit. I am no childhiding in the closetwaiting forMother’s regret. I have letthe scarf slip,the sleeve fall back,and the bruiseshave…
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Review: Falsettos: Court Theatre, TimeLineTheatre Company, Chicago https://www.talkinbroadway.com/page/regional/chicago/ch792.html
#writing#chicago#theater review#theater#talkin' broadway#Theatre#AIDS crisis#William Finn#James Lapine#Musical Theater#Musical Theatre#Theatre Review
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Write the Year 2024: Week 45—Idiom
Some very serious avoidance tonight, and a comically clinical, literal poem. This is a kerf. In poetry that apparently means a poem in four tercets with syllabic and rhyme requirements. In forensic anthropology, it’s a measurement describing sharp force trauma. I just don’t have anything metaphorical or emotional left in me. Title: IdiomWC: 68 It has to do with knivesWho knows if the poet…
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Review: Every Brilliant Thing, Writers Theatre, Glencoe, IL https://www.talkinbroadway.com/page/regional/chicago/ch791.html
#writing#chicago#theater review#theater#talkin' broadway#theatre review#Writers Theatre#Mental Health#Theatre
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Write the Year 2024—Week 44: Curio
A Stevenson for no real reason, other than I just finished reading Treasure Island. The imagery is, as usual, drawn from Danger Beagling. I let her take me well off the rough path that jogs south east through woods that aren’t (I don’t think) technically part of the forest preserve. This was partly because there’s a big downed tree across one part of the path and I wasn’t seeing a straightforwad…
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Review: Into the Woods, Kokandy Productions, Chicago https://www.talkinbroadway.com/page/regional/chicago/ch788.html
At some point, without meaning to, I got out of the habit of posting links to reviews.
#Theater#Theatre#Musical Theater#Chicago#Talkin' Broadway#Theater Review#Theatre Review#Sondheim#Steven Sondheim#Kokandy Productions
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Write the Year 2024—Week 43: Alley . . . Oop
Dumb, but the song by the Oak Ridge Boys came up elsewhere today, and I had a memory of being six and annoying the hell out of the household of a friend who (mostly) lived with her grandmother and adult uncles across the alley from me. This is a Violette. Title: Alley . . . OopWC: 64 Rolling basement box springYou strum the rusty thingOff-key—loudly—we singWords we don’t know Upstairs uncles:…
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Write the Year 2024—Week 41: Ephemera
Low on inspiration and time this week; but I did see a tissue paper solar system hanging from a tree. This is a Veltanelle Title: EphemeraWC: 105 Tissue paper planets swing in the rainWho hung them on tiptoe?Leaving no question: this is their domain,as one, heaven bows low.The waving silver undersides of leavesMake-shift susurration of would-be thieves Chalk calculations taking root…
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Write the Year 2024—Week 4: Panes
Too exhausted for much of anything. This is a Waltz Wave. Three windows in an old brick building I have wondered about. Title: PanesWC: 23 Threelittlearchedwindows.Mysteriesbeyondtheirbrick-framedarrogance.They draw the gazehelplesslySkyward.Whocan tellanything’sMissing?Whywonderthis?
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Write the Year 2024—Week 39: Ultimate
Sort of inspired by this Reedsy prompt, I guess? I was thinking of my grandparents’ kitchen, though they’d long since left that kitchen behind before my Mimi died and my Papa followed soon after. And he smoked Pall Malls; I don’t actually know that she smoked Virginia Slims. Title: UltimateWC: 800 The linoleum curled where the wood of the door sill had started to rot away. It was a back…
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Write the Year 2024—Week 38: Lions . . .
Not really inspired by anything except a note about a neighborhood landmark. This is a Quatern. Title: Lions . . .WC: 93 Lions, with their painted-on scowlsAnd their neighborhood litanySummer-scorched lawns, gold at their feetI am sized up and found wanting Once, in winter, a sudden startLions, with their painted-on scowlsSeemed to come to blue-shadow lifeI hid in the cloud of my…
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Write the Year 2024—Week 37: Early, Bird
I am once again reduced to writing poems about trees. There’s one tree near the dog park (some kind of small oak, I think, but what the hell do I, a life-long urbanite, know?) that started to have red edging on its leaves back in, like, June. It is now entirely, blazingly, “IT IS FALL, BITCHES” red. I want to believe, tree, but it was once again nearly 90F today. And still, I want to believe.…
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