“My Reality”
May 28, 2016, 8:33 pm
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Here’s my student, Kevin, reading his poem “My Reality”

SO proud of him!

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All Things Considered
May 25, 2016, 4:57 pm
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NPR is featuring my little poetry contest winner on All Things Considered this weekend. The two of us just got done recording his poem in my classroom, the only quiet spot we could find in the facility.. (it only took him a million tries and numerous gulps of water, because, y’know, THIS IS A BIG DEAL). Be sure to tune in!

link to their post a few weeks ago with other recordings: http://www.npr.org/2016/04/30/476205460/poetry-behind-bars-the-lines-that-save-lives-sometimes-literally



Words Unlocked
May 20, 2016, 7:05 pm
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just drove back to work to wake up one of my students and tell him that he tied for FIRST PLACE in a poetry contest! ‪#‎WordsUnlocked‬ is a poetry contest for incarcerated youth across the country and HE WON. he worked so hard on this piece, and this kid has probably never won a thing in his life.. SO EXCITED! (we’re poem #2 in the link below!)

http://www.ceeas.org/2016-words-unlocked-contest-winners/



A Brief Attachment -Cate Marvin
May 18, 2016, 8:02 pm
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I regard your affections, find your teeth have
left me a bruise necklace. Those lipstick
      marks leech a trail, ear to ear, facsimile your
smile. Your 40 ounces of malt liquor, your
shrink hate, your eyes dialing 911. The hearts
you draw with ballpoint on my cigarette packs
      when I’ve left the room, penned in your girl’s

cursive, look demented, misshapen approximations
of what I refuse to hand over. It’s a nice touch,
      though: a little love to accompany the cancer.
      My thought follows you to where you spend
your days lying in bed, smoking and reading
the Beats. The accumulation of clothes and ashes
      circles you, rising like a moat after rainfall.

Often you are a study in detachment—the trigger
eye is your eye, still as a finger poised to press
      should one refuse to cooperate, and I wonder
      how you can hate men so much when you think
like one. Think of what I could be doing outside
if I could unlock the door of myself: think bikini,
      think soda fountain, think tradition, a day lacking

entirely your brand of ambivalence. If you were
a number, I’d subtract you; if you were a sentence,
      I’d rewrite you. Are you the one who left these
      wilted flowers, are you the one whose PIN spells
out H-O-L-E? Why are you wearing my clothes?
If you are weather, then I am a town, closing down
      at word of your coming: you’re a glacier on fast

forward, you’re direct as a detour, when I say
good-bye you move in next door. You say you
      want to have my baby, you want to buy me a car,
      and you’re too young to enter a bar. I should tether
you to a tree in the dark park, allow the moon to stroke
your white neck. I should give you a diamond collar,
      walk you around the block and show you off.