A Flake

The January wind cracked
Spreading the crystallized air through
Bare
Deciduous trees and empty playgrounds

High above
Condensed vapors cling
Before they fall
Like a thousand angels
Fighting
An expired war

Far below
Shuddering branches whisper
To a tattooed
Playground tube
Here comes our blanket

Painted Seagulls for William Slater

A twinkle in my eye
passed from the past
when dreams were ideal and a meal was peeled.
This interwoven thread called my past is not yet past.
The twinkle remains and
so do I.

All The Right Signs

Movie night.
Approximately 2ft. 1inch of couch separate her from me. To compliment and add to the space, two distinct and unique blankets, made by her grandmother, individually cover her and me. Her legs are crossed; The right over the left, facing away from me. My legs are also crossed, mirroring her cross. Her hands fold nicely, one upon the other, resting in her lap. A fold so nice and comfortable looking it seems to say, no room for another. So I keep my hands in my own lap. She turns to say something. I turn to meet her gaze. As I turn I lean........back 8 inches, increasing the distance to 2ft. 9 inches. Back to the movie; Back to 2ft. 1 inch.
The movie ends.
She stands and walks to a book shelf. I stand as well. We talk about books. We sit down again. This time 4ft. and a coffee table separate us. Polite conversation resumes. That was a great movie. I love Indian food. I should take you home. Okay.
The car pulls into the driveway. Thank you. You're welcome. No hug tonight. Last time there was a hug. I open the door and step out. Good night. Good night. I close the door. She drives away.
I can't help but think I missed a sign.

A Look In Your Eyes

Looking into your eyes melts my resolve like,
a glistening piece of Spam.
Spam the reject of all...... Hero of none.
Those pieces of cow-
pig, dog, horse, maybe even rat.
smashed, bashed, thrice diced, liquefied, and congealed.
That pinkish, chunky cube, and the way it resists leaving the can.
You can't say no to Spam.
The slurping of victory as Gravity prevails- and the Spam slips from that tiny, tin can. Gravity always prevails.
Fried Spam, Boiled Spam, Oven Roasted Spam, Honey-Glazed Spam, Curried Spam, Pickled Spam, and just plain old Spam from the can.
Yes, Spam...
Hero of none, rejected by more than some.
Nothing like a nice, big, juicy piece of Spam

Light The Way

I close my eyes. Close your eyes too.
I can see it again.
Someone this close is not supposed to be like that.
Trust? How?
Tau lotu, you can pray too. It might help.
Light my sky, like mana fetu'u. Light it like it should be.
Maybe this is why. Every damn time.
I close my eyes, hoping to see a way.
fie'ilo. fie'ilo. fie'ilo.
Close your eyes, help me find the way.

Living Death

The title of James Joyce's story, "The Dead"(DiYanni,584-610) seems misleading. There are no gruesome murders, or any morbid images. But the truth in this story is more grotesque than any horror story scenario could possibly be. The is a story about the living dead. No not zombies. Joyce's story explores the death of imagination, dreaming, and zeal for living, caused by societies bondage.

As an individual ages their imagination grows old and dies. For most people their imagination dies before their bodies. This is seen in Joyce's story through Gabriel's aunts. As one said in her toast at the dinner party, "A new generation is growing up in our midst, a generation actuated by new ideas and new principles. It is serious and enthusiastic for these new ideas and its enthusiasm, even when it is misdirected, is, I believe, in the main sincere. But we are living in a skeptical and, if I may use the phrase, a thought tormented age. "(599). Ideas are always changing. The tendency is to assume an idea that is not yours is wrong. The beauty of the imagination is that it constantly grows and explores. But as we become immersed in society and its rules, our imagination is put in a box. In that box imagination shrinks and dies, like a wrinkly old woman.

We do not kill our own dreams; they are killed by the people we are surrounded by. It is their ideas of right and wrong, possible and impossible that make or break us. When a person dreams they become excited. This excitement permeates their life. So much of life is about your attitude. If you believe, anything is possible. But society layers us with unbelief. This embitters believers. Bitterness slowly poisons dreams until they die. The caretakers daughter epitomizes this form of death. This excerpt portrays her bitterness, "-Tell me, Liley, he said in a friendly tone, do you still go to school? -No, sir, she answered. I'm done schooling this year and more. -O, then, said Gabriel gaily, I suppose we'll be going to your wedding one of these fine days with your young man, eh? The girl glanced back at him over her shoulder and said with great bitterness: -The men that is now is only all palaver and what they can get out of you." (585). Circumstances have embittered her towards life. This bitterness, this skepticism, has murdered her dreams.
Death is generally a very sad, depressing topic. So everything that seems light and full of life would be the antagonist of death. The setting of this story is a dinner party. These parties are supposed to be full of light, laughing, and happiness. This particular dinner party is none of those. There is an underlying tension rippling from the beginning when the caretakers daughter shows in the guests. Gabriel emits a sense of anger and frustration towards life, throughout the party. Mr. Browne seems to be trying to drown his regrets with alcohol. The one lady leaves early because Gabriel offends her. The actual dinner is dry and formal. The toasting leaves a feeling of melancholy. "The coffin, said Mary Jane, is to remind them of their last end."(598). This is not a party. This is a funeral.
Decomposing bodies make great fertilizer. But what does decomposing spirit make? When the spirit slowly decomposes, it emits a sense of hopelessness, a sense of stagnation. The grass on the other side is always greener. This concept seems to be the same with people. It is always easier to say that somebody else has it made. With this thought comes stagnation. Focus turns from what we can change, to what is wrong. "He would fail them just as he had failed the girl in the pantry. He had taken up a wrong tone. His whole speech was a mistake from first to last, an utter failure."(586). This starts a downward spiral. The lower you spiral the closer you come to spiritual death. The only cure for this wallowing mess of a stagnant spirit is to find hope.
The death of hope, is the death of all. Nearing the end of the story Gabriel has a brief glimpse at this hope. He believes that he could have true love with his wife. For a moment he is rejuvenated and excited. At this point Joyce introduces Michael Furey. The story of Michael Furey emphasizes the fact that Gabriel is alive but he doesn't live. Furey was truly the only person in this story to live. He loved and acted upon that love. Regrets are made by inaction. Michael Furey died, but he died living life. He died without regrets. Gabriel and the others are alive, but when it comes to actually living life, they are dead. "His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead."(610).

Like the characters in this story we are bound by society. Day by day we are growing more and more dependent upon societies boundaries. But if we live too much by society we will not be living at all. Joyce shows us this danger. Life is meant to live, and sometimes we just need to make our own rules. The key to living is understanding society, but abiding by your inner self.

Work Cited

Joyce, James. “The Dead”. Literature reading fiction, poetry, and drama. Robert DiYanni McGraw Hill 2007. 584-610. Print

Ambitious Living

There are two ways to dream. One way is while you sleep. The other is a way of designating a wishful life goal. Both forms of dreaming supplement hope and rejuvenate the spirit and body. In Theodore Roethke's poem, "The Waking" (DiYanni 838) he explores the intertwining nature of these connotations of dreaming. Using metaphors, syntax, and diction, Roethke successfully simulates the experience of a dream.

Dreams are rarely clear and concise; more often they are foggy, unclear images, with brief moments of clarity. With the use of diction like “wake to sleep,” “those close beside me,” and “This shaking keeps me steady”(1,7,16) Roethke intertwines the two forms of dreaming. The effectiveness of these phrases is apparent. By using words and phrases that have multiple connotations it befuddles the reader, but also gives brief moments of clarity. This is important to the overall metaphor of the poem.

There are two words that really direct the purpose of the poem: waking and going. These words are transition words. With waking you are becoming aware, or growing in awareness. Going indicates that you are moving towards something. Clearly waking indicates the growing awareness of a goal and going indicates traveling upon the path towards that goal. These words are used over and over again. Almost as if the author keeps reiterating that dreams never stay the same; they are always in constant movement.

“Of those so close beside me, Which are you?”(7). The part of this line that catches my attention is the question, "Which are you?"(7). This clearly refers to another individual. To this point the voice of the poem is a soliloquy. This line is implemented for two purposes. When we dream we often fleet about: image to image. Rarely ever is there a conjunction between images. This line represents that jump. The other signifying factor in the line is the dependence of a goal on the world. As human beings we seek social acceptance. Usually our goals start out very personal and intimate. Eventually as they grow into a substantial entity, we can't keep them intimate. They bubble forth. This is when we seek the acceptance and support of those around us. It seems like every time somebody speaks of their goals, people respond in one of two ways: Face reality, you will never accomplish that. Or, that's so great, go get them, you can do anything. The question "Which are you?"(7) is asking whether the individual suddenly being addressed, as well as the audience, is a pessimist or optimist.

Death's metaphor awaits.“Great nature has another thing to do To me and you;” (13-14).This stanza reminds me that death is lurking. It is a natural part of life. It is an essential part of nature. “so take the lively air, And, lovely, learn by going where to go.”(15-16). Death is coming, it is the Great Nature's (13) plan for us. Live life while we have it. Don't wait to pursue your dreams. Go. Go now and live life. That is the purpose of this stanza. I heard once that all great poems either have the subject of death, or of love and life. Most of this poem is about life. In this one stanza the focus shifts. The shift is a warning. Dreams are meant for living. If we stagnate and don't dream we aren't really living. The author seems to say, death is on the way, so live your life ambitiously.

The first line in the last stanza is interesting. How can shaking keep someone steady? (16). My spirit is a wanderer. Complacency is my enemy. If life stagnates I get physically sick. The shaking, or change, in my life keeps me steady, keeps me healthy, keeps me interested. In many ways the whole purpose of a goal or a dream is to find change. By using the line "This shaking keeps me steady." Roethke is saying that the purpose of life is to have experiences. Throughout life we have experiences. Some are good some are bad. No matter how hard we try we will never be free from the consequences. But these consequences are the teaching principles in life. Without them there would be no growth. In order to achieve our goals, our dreams, we have to shake it up. We “learn by going where to go” (15).

“We think by feeling.” (4). This is true. Physically and metaphysically. The basic human has five senses: sight, hearing, touch, taste, and smell. These senses help us evaluate and learn from our surroundings. Without one of the five the way we evaluate life would drastically change. How do you feel? A common question. Let me think about it. A common answer. When I think about how I feel I close my eyes and focus. Somewhere deep inside of me the answer resides. I'm trying to pull it to the surface. A tingle in my toes, warmth from my bosom, an ache in my chest. Consider the entity that makes up you. Close your eyes, focus, and listen. Listen to the quivering molecules, listen to the humming of your spirit. This is you. “I hear my being dance from ear to ear.” (5). When we are happy and satisfied with life, our being dances a vibrant tune; a dance that eclipses our whole entity. When we dream we unleash our subconscious, we unleash ourselves. As I concentrate I align these feelings and to come to a conclusion; I am happy when I have a dream.

Roethke is a magician. Using everyday words he creates a piece of art that intertwines and explores an intense, complicated subject. Why is it important to dream and set goals? Because we learn from the adventure. "I learn by going where I have to go" (19). Without dreams, life is an empty shell. The metaphors, diction, and analogies Roethke uses truly delve into the depths of the human spirit. I congratulate him on an exquisite piece. And I find myself dreaming.

Citations:

Roethke, Theodore. "The Waking". Literature reading fiction, poetry, and drama. Robert DiYanni McGraw Hill 2007. 838-839. Print