My life rarely works the way I think it will. Maybe that’s actually normal, I don’t know. Grad school was interrupted the first time by my grandfather’s cancer, then interrupted later by my dropping out, then continued much later after realizing that music, particularly the music that I like to listen to and to play, … Continue reading the post about not posting
While watching and discussing segments of the documentary Merchants of Cool (google it—you can watch it for free!) with sophomores, I found out that the media specialist behind the film, Douglas Rushkoff, has a new book out called Life, Inc. I’m also thinking about my own practices as a teacher and what teaching English means … Continue reading Thinking about Teaching Thinking
It’s rare that I ever have a creatively useful dream. Most of the time my dreams are more like murmurs in a theater or bad action movie sequences. Not much useful there. Every now and then something happens that just stays with me. Here is one of the very few poems that I have pieced … Continue reading My dreams rarely interfere.
With their words, they gave me the world. They turned handles, lifted latches, opened doors, opened eyes and ears. I was possessed. I had to write, but what could I possibly offer that hadn’t already been chewed, digested, even spit out? I needed a place or a thing in the world that I could follow, … Continue reading Another Bradbury Assignment, But Which One?
How many times have I come across a line or statement and had the “A-ha!” moment? It’s beautiful and maddening. Beautiful because I realize that I am not alone and in fact share some inner working of human life with others. Maddening because I wish I could have said it so well. Here’s part of … Continue reading What you learned me I already knowed.
For the past few years I have been working on a series of prose poems. As with most of my writing, it’s not happened as quickly as I would have wanted. I’m used to it; I’m a slow cooker, a crock pot. Here’s one that was published in Project for a New Mythology: And Wait … Continue reading Prose Poems
As T.S. Eliot once wrote: “These fragments I have shored against my ruins.” Word by word, piece by piece, blog by blog. Continue reading A First Crumb
Stephen McClurg 