Monthly Archives: March 2008

What I Carry

What I Carry Graphic Organizer I carry my Swiss Army pocket knife. 

http://nymag.com/

Exquisite Corpse Poems (Class 7-8) Part 4

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Magenta purple, Magenta red
I said something once to a shiny bowling ball head that almost made my eye
magenta red
I think was the shininess of it that made my eye turn that color. Blood red with passion, vengeance and fury. Carnage and gore were an inevitable fate.
It was almost as if I was being eaten alive by those tiny red ants, and soon I would be one of
them.

I Hate bugs. MOstly bees and yellow
jackets. If I was ever surrounded by yellow jackets, I’d probably stop breathing.
What a nightmare that would be.

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Exquisite Corpse Poems (Class 7-8) Part 3

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The room was spinning,
I didn’t know where I was,
This was my escape,
Knowledge of reality and fantasy had vanished.

I was blind in my hands,
And could not group with my eyes,
My mind was void,
With room for calm.

When people express themselves, contradictions abound.
Creativity often yields new configurations of old components, but rarely completely new components.

Even the littlest bit of creativity and help from everyone can create a new component eventually.

Covering the ice cream cone with RAINbow sprinkles with help from the mail man
He was a master at his craft and
Smothered on a colorful blanket.

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Exquisite Corpse Poems (Class 7-8) Part 2

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As she runs, not knowing where she’s going, she hits a wall.
Not a literal wall, but a figurative wall. This wall, which was the
only thing standing in her way from what she truly wanted. She
hit this wall hard and blindly IT STOPPED HER SO VIOLENTLY
THAT SHE ALMOST GAVE UP. The friction of them

together could heat the sun. The sun is hot. Kind of like blogs.
Love them.

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Exquisite Corpse Poems (Class 7-8) Part 1

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She ran frantically down the street, out of breath, bumping into all sorts of people.
She constantly glanced back and was breathing so loudly that everyone could hear her

over the loud city noise. That’s when she found

the cat. Bursting with blood and guts. It looked
like it was on the verge of explosion. But it just
deflated and floated away. Goodbye
memories…goodbye hope…goodbye dreams…

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Exquisite Corpse Poems (Class 2-3) Part 2

But then I left the set of the movie. The other actors were fakes.
“Phonies,” as if I were Holden Caulfield. When I woke a week later, I was stunned. The set had been doomed from the start. The omens were all ignored. The writing was on the walls, but was flicked clean by the tongues of the hypocrites.
Movie sets dont sit well with me. I prefer to be by the ocean. Where I can talk to my friends the ocean + the sand. They touch me like a mother touches her child and make me want to write you a letter in red pen.

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Exquisite Corpse Poems (Class 2-3) Part 1

I had a dream last night that I was doing something foolish.
Sitting on a rock. Watching people walk by without noticing me. Lighting small
fires and watching them burn.
Corner corner is my friend. corner corner until the end. I stand but I fall. I trip yet stand tall. until the end. corner corner.
Room, Room is my friend. Room Room until the end. I sit and I cry, while I try not to die. until the end. Room, room.
I have not left. My room is my friend and I’m supposed to be there till the end. But I take a chance. I step out.

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