Free writing week 2

So between chapters 6 and 8 is 7 and I can't stomach a one chapter skip. So I read it and found the foundations exercise interesting and helpful.

I know we did some of this in class but i wanted to try what was written

Here is the poem I started from the Exercise. I have also included the half page, but not all of the editing as that would make for a very long post.


Brother, Son and the HolyGhost
Typewriter nation fell on happiness,
Son sees the limelight through LCD screens.
Old Scratch laughed when the sky broke the beggar,
His Son ate fish with Nantucket sea goers.
burned bleeding burlap strikes down beggars head
His son eats his daily bread without smiles
Aunt Dire mends a religious rocking chair
son sits reading, room filled with coat hangers
Preacher man ate a pie full of Jesus.
son sits crying overs clusters of phane
Did Jesus love happiness? since he chose his brother.
teardrops on happiness now.
His son ponders where he lost his peer group
Was preacher man right to tell hap repent.
His son shouts at offspring for leftover,
Leftovers.
A bare plate now rests where teardrop/once sat
His son hears the lighting crash over head

And son waits now that teardrop is dead.
And happiness waits now that teardrop is,
(dead).


Half page of writing after some revisions
weep not for the toothbrush on the back shelf everything must stay and nothing can go but a ideas and toenails and finger-paint if its dried and crusty fortitude used to mount on something that made sense to Elmore blithe and his rowdy bird feathers altogether ridiculous bride dog cat ferret perch parrot nearly blind owl fat little thunder bolt hits on tummies brain string through his knee cap teardrops cry out where is my grandmother and the cross they hung him on was from the minister who never knew anything about an Anglican visitor baptize water eats with sunfish happiness is dead and not poured on the heaps or you’re better off dead or in hell of the time poured drunken spirit and dog breath pours back on top of the Kool-Aid man because no one watches TV anymore the boys with their gnarled knapsacks took off on their sharpies and road to the grandstand an down into the whole they went and covered themselves in the plastic wrap blind light has a way of revealing how a maggot feels when its wash to the wall of the coke stand that pours out of the blood of the innocent estranger who used to be a friend then a delinquent then a matter pointless futile then a preacher man ate a pie full of Jesus Sunday on the morning of the flat fields I see the group handing out posters about the whole incident again and wonder how blue doe the fish get when it is in the ocean of aortic and does the black or purple orange or vanished blood every find stagnate manners of the apothecary as it hoses down the side of the leaflet how long do we wait in exile wondering if the damnation of the spirit is original blood or original sin or original death and strike and boom lighting flashes on my fathers head and the plow man laughs at the site of Agnes and Irene as they wear black on a Saturday and the preacher tells happiness he should learn Jesus because teardrop did. He knows about the tragedy of loss how long will the placemat sit on the table so lonely and don’t touch it happiness or be damned if your brother will appear again and the black slithering white light will come smashing down on the pumpkins rotten in a field of dreams where the other men once brandish a sword or two for Emma Samson and her gang black knights always when the battle but not again or he would have a barbeque for the thousand religious rocking chairs