I've spent the afternoon previewing poetry videos at the Poetry Foundation's website. While my intent is to cobble together some kinds of poetry videos as well as kinds of poetry for my Advanced Poets, I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't finding some inspiration myself from what I was seeing.
Kay Ryan, our poet laureate, for instance, mentioned in a conversation on PBS that she sometimes uses cliches' to spur her writing,
which lead me to wonder at the various levels of cliche'--from the cliche's that we speak, to the rhetorical moves that seemed cliche'd "That's a GOOD question," for example, or the doubting aporia , where we knock down another argument by making another one based on the clever use of doubt;
this lead to even more musing on the literal, rhetorical and artistic use of words.
And back I come to the cliche' as a prompt.
"That's a Good question," I say,
poking at the lint between my ears.
"That's a Good question, Mary."
Flags drop in the drag race of time:
yellow, caution," Could you explain your idea?'
Green, "great. Now link it back to what we were discussing."
Blue: " Wait, Mary isn't finished with her idea." Red and Yellow
Red and yellow red and yellow!
"does anyone want to add to what Mary has said?"
White flag: "That was a GOOD question."
This brainstormed draft--so much to work on, so much to change. Do I want the speaker to be a tired, bored teacher who relies on old formula and cliche' to make it through class? perhaps. I want to hit the moment when the instructor and class both realize that it really was a "GOOD question." Maybe giving the questions more body, more reference.
As much as I've usd drag racing as a symbol, I don't know what to do with it. I am no fan of Daytona or any kind of racing. The only reason I now anything about the flags at all is that they are the centerpiece of my dining room table.
How'd that happen? Six years ago, when P and I were engaged, we spent some time with a therapist, doing some premarital counseling. During the course of our discussions, P mentioned that he had a hard time figuring out my moods whenever he came home from work, as I tended to be a quiet person regardless of things. Our therapist suggested that we get something simple, like a magnet for the fridge, which would indicate if I were happy or sad that day. Creative thinker that he was and is, P brought home a small set of racing flags to use. Red, white, yellow, black, checkerboard and something resembling the flag of Sweden, they sat together in the little black flagholder on the kitchen counter. I was supposed to figure out what kind of mood I was in, and then remove the flag that best symbolized that move, so that when P came home, he'd know without having to be told if I were angry (red), philosophical (white) or Swedish (blue and yellow.)
We used the set of flags at our wedding, and after that, we lost them when we moved to our new house. Or maybe I lost them on purpose. I was red-flag angry with the things within a month or so--it was too much to have to use a system that I didn't understand to express my feelings each day.
And so back to the draft. Am I writing about something beyond the classroom? I'll have to think about it--roll it around in my mind for a while.
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