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jrlewis's picture

Une Douzane D'Oeufs

Submitted by jrlewis on Fri, 03/23/2012 - 3:32pm

After humpty dumpty falls 

Only eleven eggs left…

Onze is seasoned with his parsley

Sprig soft mustache. 

Dix becomes scrambled.

I am the yoke and white he is

Whisking together so swiftly his fingers blur. 

The result is thick custard.

Neuf and huit are covered with béchamel and tomato paste

The color of my nipples, sauce aurore.

A two tone stipple coat eggs sept et six

Teal overlays aquamarine, reflecting

His brilliant blue eyes. 

Cinq is served sur les canapés he is

Baby cakes, burns eyelashes and all.

Just call me Emma.

Quatre requires a well-lubricated pan for

He plans to make an omelet of me. 

Tongue tastes the fine pores of my skin

Deux and trois

They pair eggs and white wine

Copying Julia Child, why else

Would one drink champagne on cinco de mayo?

The ultimate egg in her lap

She cradles because it will taste better when

Cooked from room temperature

This ultimate pleasure.

Masticating

Swallowing substantial nutrients

Gut absorbed, proteins are taken into my cells

I have digested my sin.  It sits

Memory, making me into a dromedary

For my travels through the desert Elizabeth

Like a prayer I repeat her name

Lizzy, Elizabeth, girlfriend.

Your woman, me

An animal. 

Who slept with you for a poem.

Can you say it three times fast?

jrlewis's picture

My Love Affair with the Silver Boy

Submitted by jrlewis on Fri, 03/23/2012 - 3:27pm

A solitary figure

Continues to wage his war

Against the sand.  This worker

Is out late, the others already retired.

Charged with guarding the compound

From elements and predator’s alike is

Twisted bits of wood and wire

Fortifying the exterior

The burden of a mature ant.

He is patrolling the Cliffside

Listening for rustling

In the grass.

He hears leaves

Overturned by fluttering

Of a young queen ant.  Female

Calling syndrome, this courtship

His transformation from worker to male

Makes him a morphological monstrosity!

Beyond the biological sciences

The nuptial flight commences

 

Away from the anthill

I revealed cornflower blue

Eyes, a passion for soccer, signs

Of humanity.  He is a man big enough

To ride my father’s bike.  “part pirate,

part precious metal” sterling sideburns roan

chest and back.  I am telling my own

legend of the silver stallion.

But tertia non datur…

 

The name Nantucket

Faraway land in the words

Of the Wampanoag. He is a son

Of the Grey Lady and I an aphid

He tended me only for my honeydew

jrlewis's picture

My Love Affair with the Grey Lady

Submitted by jrlewis on Fri, 03/23/2012 - 3:19pm

 

 

Off the coast of Cape Cod

Is a grimacing monster cyclops

Creature of three eyes, all owl yellow

Carved jack o’ lantern watching, wondering

Forming an equilateral triangle of sight

Guarded against surgery, removal

Of the simple vestigial lump

Ever frightful

Her tempestuous mind

Moods dancing on a Cliffside

Before melancholy storms brewing

Beaches being overwhelmed by waves

Raging wild words with Apollo or lunar cycles

Eroding dunes and dragging away roots

From fields of salt grasses growing

Fine feeling skin hairs

Ripping apart

It hurts

She cries out

Great gritty tears

Streams of sand grains

Chunks of stone gliding down

Cowering with cracks and weakness

Wrapped in an obscure suspension is she

jrlewis's picture

#4 Notes

Submitted by jrlewis on Fri, 03/23/2012 - 2:59pm

 

 

“William Faulkner

Failed freshmen English

Three times,” said the professor

Shaking her head, ringing sterling bells

Clapping against the nape of her neck

A triplicate charm or choice

Of silver stirrups slapping

A horse’s stomach

Carrying the rider

Further, higher, way away

Following a well-worn bridle path

With powerful long flanks flashing

In the soft sunlight she herself flourishes

Horses are a potent metaphor

 

A student sitting

In the spring light studying

Illustrations of olive leaved algae

Sargassum, abundant weeds of deceit

Feed and shade a special seahorse

Grazing on anthozoan inhabitants

In the sea without shores

The doldrums

jrlewis's picture

My Future with Serendip

Submitted by jrlewis on Fri, 03/23/2012 - 2:50pm

I have missed Serendip.  This website is the chance for meaningful intellectual exchange, as I understand it.  It is a playground for people who like to think and think about thinking. 

Lately, I have been thinking about writing.  I’ve been writing too: poetry, short stories, and essays. Writing for oneself is all well and good.  However, an alphabetical list of Microsoft word documents in isn’t a great measure of intellectual growth.  So I’m going to experiment with Serendip and keeping a blog of my writing and thoughts about writing.  Hoping that other Serendipians will participate too.  Writers are zebras, they thrive in a herd. 

kobieta's picture

Law and Order Episode: Immortal

Submitted by kobieta on Fri, 03/23/2012 - 1:13am

 

 

Here is a link for my copy of the Law and Order episode called Immortal. Please let me know through my email, kobieta@brynmawr.edu, if you encounter any problems!!

 

http://www.4shared.com/file/9yG2TxqO/file.html

 

Hope it works!

kobieta's picture

First Memories and the TRUTH

Submitted by kobieta on Fri, 03/23/2012 - 1:09am

 

It was reallly cool for me to learn about the science of memory and forgetting this week from the Radio Lab that froggies so kindly suggested for us. But, I think I focused more on the memory part rather than the forgetting part. I've always had this idea that in our brains, we hold some type of ruler, or at least linear object that contains the fourth dimension of time. In this ruler, the things we've done, the things we are doing, and the things that we have been predetermined to do (I guess this bit was heavily influenced by my faith) are already set, and it's just a matter of where the pointer (also part of the ruler) is at that determines what we experience. When we are recalling a memory, the pointer just sort of goes back in time through that ruler to "play out" our memories. The pointer has one flaw though, it can never move past where you are now; can't play the future.

Anne Dalke's picture

Sunday night: WORDS

Submitted by Anne Dalke on Thu, 03/22/2012 - 10:51pm

Sunday night, along w/ your usual reflections on the week past, please post here three "gender" terms you want to understand better/be able to use. Please tell a brief  'story' about each one: a time you yourself misused the word, or were confused someone else's use, or ....? In other words, tell us why knowing how to use this word matters to you...

elchiang's picture

Ghana Study 5: Children and Young Adult Literature

Submitted by elchiang on Thu, 03/22/2012 - 5:05pm

Since coming back from Ghana, in terms of children and young adult literature, I have found that more and more the importance is providing relevant literature to the lives of the children in Ghana. When we were at Titagya, I was reading the Highlights magazine with some of the students, and they stumbled upon a story called “Where is my goat?” The story was about a young African boy looking for his goat with his father, and the landscape was very similar to the landscape in Dalun. It was interesting to see the recognition register in the minds of the students, especially as most of the magazine had pictures that were very different from their lives.

            From researching the Burt Award as well as learning about the Gold Baobab Prize, I realize the impact of exposure to “people like you” on children and young adults through the media and education. This is a point where I can definitely relate to because I have never really had Asian American role models in my life through any forms of media. The first time any Asian American artist made the top ten Billboards was in 2010. Furthermore, I have never had a teacher of color in my whole educational career. Feeling the disempowerment of lacking role models makes me realize the importance of providing relevant reading material for Ghanaian children.

leamirella's picture

Recreating Memories + Stories

Submitted by leamirella on Thu, 03/22/2012 - 11:56am

I'm just going to post this before I lose this train of thought. I'm really interested in what we talked about in class today about the construction of all of our memories. This made me think of how we constantly mediate everything that surrounds us. I'm going to ground my thoughts in examples and what I'm looking at are class notes:

This is an image of my class notes from today. (Admittedly, they are not as comprehensive as my notes usually because I'm running on four hours of sleep.) If I wanted to tell someone what happened today in class, I could look at these class notes to prompt me. However, reconstructing from this data would be different from the "actual" discussion that we had today because I mediated the points that intrigued me personally. I also included other things that helped me understand the discussion. For example, I have references to other theorists that helped me think through the thoughts in my head. Therefore, if I were to reconstruct the "reality" that happened today, it would be near impossible to "tell the full story".

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