PERMISSIONS: To view the blog, post on it, and comment on posts, you must be invited. I will send you an email invitation to join the blog, and then you must follow the instructions to join up and begin posting. You can't join the blog without first creating a Google account.

POSTING: Post your poems by clicking "New Post" at the top right of the page. Paste your poem into the window.

LABELING: Then label the post with the assignment name (i.e., "confessional poem," "sonnet," etc.), your name (i.e., "Tony Barnstone," etc.), and the week (i.e., "week one," "week two," but not "week 1"--spell out your numbers). If you post a poem in week two that is due in week three, label it "week three." When you begin to type in a label, the program will fill it in for you, so your post will be labeled with the rest of the poems in the same category.

COMMENTING: Afterwards, you can "comment" on the posts of your classmates. Post "group one" and "group two" one-page critical responses as "comments" on the posted poems, but also print out copies for me and for the poet and give them to us in class.

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Brennan, The Zamboni Driver

She smiled and pulled the trigger back,
a slam of sound did ring.
"Look what you've made me go and do.
Now take back your god damned ring."

Two bodies lay in the room with him
and hour before he rose
with cold hands that dripped with mistress blood
and stained sheets around his toes.

no sirens came to comfort him,
no lights or suits of blue.
He wished to God that there was time
to make this scene untrue.

He picked the magnum .45
up from the grisly floor.
He put it into his mouth and then
he shuddered to his core.

He had not resolve to join them both, but
his scarred face shows his regret;
His still pink wounds and patch of flesh
will not let him forget.

With ruined, shambled life and cast,
he left town without a word
and now he rides the great Zamboni,
but of this I'm sure you've heard.

He came to this town in hopes that he
could live without explaining
just what had brought him to live among us
or tell of all his failings.

Now watch yourself, don't let him know
of all the things I've told.
It's quite a shame what's happened to him
in his life so bleak and bold.
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1 comment:

  1. michael knoxMay 11, 2009 at 5:21 PM

    Great poem alex, i really enjoyed scene play out that i got from reading your poem. I like the idea and the story, but am confused on how it relates to a Zamboni. I know the story behind the drunk Zamboni driver, but your poem focuses around a death by a gun. Also the poem starts out with a woman and then the rest of the poem is a man so I am a little confused about the flow of the poem.
    Things i really enjoyed in the poem was the image of the open flesh after almost commiting suicide. It leaves me with an image you probably have seen in Fight Club at the end when Edward Norton blows his head off, but still lives. "still pink wounds and patch of flesh," is a vivid image that stays in my mind, and I can imagine his check blow to pieces and his teeth smiling out. You could add that in there that sounds kind of nice.
    Back to the flow of the poem, and I realize that there is a person trying to leave his past, but to actually use a persons name in the title, you need to get things right. Brennan was a woman who got a DUI, and im not sure what the connection is to the murder. Try and change the poem around so that we are familiar with who is doing what, and maybe add a few stanzas to clarify the connection between the Zamboni driver and murder. I really like the poem though Alex, and maybe all that need be done is change the title.

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