I tried to incorporate Amy Beeder's use of descriptive words in her poem Cabezón to reshape my six story word piece of fiction I began in class. Just as Beeder describes her surroundings I too try to master this style.
Why do I have to drive on this crowded highway to commute a long way on a rainy day? I don't even like any of these professors. Stuck on the highway as the huge pellets of rain pound on my rusted yellow Toyota two door car stinks like the alley I had to park my car in to make it to class on time. The sun just came up and I can't wait for it to go down. Stuck in traffic on the way home is what I will be. A rainy day just makes my life so much worse. Sometimes I feel curse like the witches who lived in Salem. I wish I could like these classes but I just don't! First day of class the professors always ask why did you pick this class? My mind wonders and I think about picking roses with the thorns still attached trying not to prick my fingers. This careful picking process is the same procedure I used to pick classes. Obviously I didn't avoid all the thorns when picking classes and my hands red as dirt in Mexico are left bleeding. I chose the worse god damn classes!
"stinks like the alley I had to park my car in to make it to class on time"
ReplyDeleteThis line sticks out to me the most because it is such a source of frustration but the way you put it is relate-able and poetic.
I love how naturally this poem flows. It is easy to read and it reads like inner dialogue. Your comparisons between the rose picking process and the class picking process were great. I love what you said about the classes leaving your hands red like the clay of mexico. You didn't avoid all of the thorns. Great use of imagery, great use of language and natural flow.
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