mocked!

 I think instead of “writing sample” I will start calling this post “mocked” because it’s not necessarily a sample of MY writing, even though I wrote it.  This past week, we had to do a mock-up of “Tender Buttons” by Gertrude Stein.  If you’ve read this piece, you know how difficult it could be to comprehend or copy.  If you haven’t read it, click here and just take a glimpse at what I was working with before reading mine, after the jump!

THE PLAYLIST

 

TALKING OF MICHELANGELO

Imagine the explosion of the sky. The falling after the explosion and dissipation of the ashes into the ocean. Spreading like the speed of light and sound of motion. It was all a crazy dance; a random commotion. 

 

A DROP IN THE OCEAN

Failure and praying, correlating together, closer than most, incandescent toast.

 

WARM WHISPERS

They inundate me.  Milk and honey.  Tasting like tea, feeling like free.  Instigation, lamination, corporation, contamination.

 

SHIMMER

Bathing in the moonlight, moving at the speed of light, talking trash, wasting gas, wondering if this is right.  Glitter, stardust.  And also: responsibility.  No one really ever wants to be on the non-moving horses.  It’s always a race to get to the ones that are already off of the ground, just for reassurance. 

 

TRACKING TREASURE DOWN

Pirate ships, fairy tales, talking of time and time and movement and car rides and longing and thinking about remembering, but not.  Sharp words push me back.  I throw myself.

 

BANG BANG

Carrying a gun, wanting none, shooting with words, from the hip, secretly intense and scorpions.  Brain dead, brain waves, ocean front, don’t want to hunt.  Pointing to the face or pointing to the heart, this is where we need to start.

 

UNFOLD

Folding and unfolding and folding and the creases in the clothing or the edges of the blanket maybe fraying or smooth and soft; chilling.  Colder than ice, but melting twice as fast.  Life is enmeshed in itself, and never was anything different.  

 

 

MONSOON

The caps are handy like handicaps and wheelchairs, but maybe crutches.  Rain causes mud and browns the surface.  The tip breaks off and becomes dulled; unusable.  In control, contorting, snorting, pigs roll around in the mud and dispel reasonability into sniping non-symmetry.

 

There isn’t enough room in this house.  

 

 

MELANIE

I don’t know her.  But I’d like to, because she sounds beautiful.

 

 

WORLD SPINS MADLY ON

Waking up is like breaking up insofar as that.  In death and dying, in screaming and lying, plasma and vitriolic acid seep from the wounds and all is well after the sun sets.  There is no control, just an alteration of altercation, sizing up and down, without reason.

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One Response

  1. I LOVE this

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