Monday, August 6, 2007
shyku for mrs. graves
would you when startled ^ each narrative the undeniable ^ brief the form ^ reflected a word in a fleck collective ^ noun my favorite ^ "I" empties itself of radiance ^ more suited to ^ meaning what can a sentence like this mean ^ or is nothing tiny ^ narratives of syntax ^ the story is that explosion ^ within grammar yours wanted you ^ cruelly to empty ^ derange to craft radiance ^ what's a man ^ to mean anyway ^ isn't it ^ to expect ^ allegiance of water ^ wind and con ^ not ^ at ^ ions
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believe it or not, Mrs. Graves was my first English teacher . . .
who taught me how to make sentences
who once pulled me out of a chair
by the back of my collar
for handing out too many chuckles
who, when I think of her, seems
brittle and angular
who moved to Florida
sometime in the 80s
to work in a Cabbage Patch Doll factory
which must have fulfilled
some kind of peculiar
[fantasy] in the woman
imagine a world where
all the students look at you
with the same droll happiness
where you teach them about sentences
and they look at you
with the faces you gave them
There you are, Mrs. Graves, as big as a male poet.
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