"Exposed," 10/22/08

Expose the children
we must expose them
to things they will see anyway
and when they do
(don't be a fool)
they need to be used
to the
shock
us
they
shock us
when we try
to reach out
No wonder they're
shocking
when we have committed
ourselves to exposing them,
(strip them like wires)
then we wonder
why no one can
reach
them today--
whenever we try
they shock us,
they burn us,
then--snap--
and burn out

"Classroom 305," 9/15/08

A girl speaks about the meaning of
the book, addressing the rows of
students at length and with relish,
and I, sitting quiet in my desk, can
hear nothing but the fan behind
me, whirring conceitedly, freezing
my back, and blowing the pages
of my notebook hither and thither,
and it echoes what she says, its
oscillations keeping time with the
drone of her voice, and she, trying
hard to keep going, throwing words
out everywhere like a pedantic
preacher, some of them occasioning
to hit a fellow student and knock
him unconscious, drooping upon his
desk, is not aware of the grand
symphony she is a part of, with the
fan, her words, and the turning of
pages crescendoing until the final,
crashing note of the clock striking
one, and I want to stop her, shake
her, and say The movement's over,
but she is taken away by the music,
and she launches into a solo.

"A Girl Fell," 9/11/08

A girl fell in the lane.
The sky was covered in thick
cream-puff clouds so low
the outdoors felt like a room.

A girl fell in the lane.
No sound of cracking branch or stick.
I stopped, the silence was so
deep, no birdsong broke the gloom.

A girl fell in the lane.
Red cobbles gleamed with rain,
in which she sat to see
her foot, bag dropped nearby.

A girl fell in the lane.
Some chilly people feigned
preoccupation, thought it'd be
her stooping, shoes to tie.

A girl fell in the lane.
She never looked to any face
that passed, nor made a sound
to break the day's silent refrain.

A girl fell in the lane.
I hurried to a dryer place.
What good to linger in a town
where girls fall lonely in the rain?