Sunday, October 31, 2010

Rainy Halloween...and a poem

Almost November! I'll be glad when Halloween weekend is over. All these parties I don't want to go to for a holiday I don't enjoy. I don't have a problem with Halloween in general, I've just never been interested in costumes or crazy partying.

School's clipping along. Nonfiction is going better. I finished both of my presentations for the class, and they went well, plus I'm gaining more confidence to speak out in class. Sometimes the readings and the essays I have to write are really stimulating and even fun. I loved (for the most part) reading and presenting on Ben Franklin's autobiography--he is hilarious and super fascinating and has an honest, down-to-earth voice. And by the way, he's my great-great-great-great-great uncle on my paternal grandpa's side ;) My claim to fame.

The most fulfilling things are writing poetry (I actually like all my homework, but it's a treat to have a couple hours just to write) and my internship with Get Lit!--which is busy and very writing-intensive...blog posts (btw, the blog is http://getlitprograms.blogspot.com, in case you want to check out some literary news!), newsletters, author bios, website pages, and pages for the festival program guide.

I had a wonderful birthday--laid-back, just the way I like it. Isaac took me to a nice dinner and to see The Social Network, and the Wescombes--plus Meghan and Nate and Meghan's roommate, visiting from Colorado--had a sweet birthday dinner for me.

Ken and Maile made a trip out here from Seattle last weekend. It was a surprise for Isaac, and it was fun planning it and seeing how totally stunned and overjoyed he was to see them. It rained all weekend (actually, it's been gray and gross for a couple weeks now) and Isaac worked for one of his classmates for most of Saturday, but I took them around downtown and to the waterfall, and we had a great time at a Fall party at Erica and Aaron's place.

I think I've mentioned Erica and Aaron (a couple from our church), but I should talk about them again. We've been hanging out with them quite a bit, and I feel like Erica has been the first friend I've really connected with here (though I also really enjoy some of the girls from school). The other day she and I went to the humane society and squealed over the adorable doggies :) I WANT ONE!

Isaac is crazy into cooking, and when I have time and inspiration, I get into it, too; we've been eating well and learning a lot. He's mastering bread baking and making mayo from scratch, and I get bored and want to find delicious healthy meals that only take like 5 minutes to make. Ha.

I don't usually do this, but here's the most recent poem I wrote. It's a first draft and I'm sure in a couple weeks I'll be ashamed I posted it as is, but I'm still in the honeymoon phase with it and want to share it. It's pretty different than anything I've ever written:

--------

Mtongwe Ferry Disaster, 272 Dead


Cresting the hill like a dam’s been released,

a crowd floods from Mombasa town

to the lip of the harbor, daily

commute back to the villages

under an ebbing orange sun.

Women wear crowns of rag-wrapped

charcoal, skinny boys flap

in paper-thin sandals.


She arrives lumbering, eases her ramp

to the ground, voicing the groans

the people are silencing in throbbing bones.

At the touch of steel to concrete, the crowd

swirls on board like a wind,

pressing into corners, swelling

to fill imaginary space.


There’s an echoing shuffle of feet

on rust, bodies aligned, balanced

and rigid, the umber scent of tropics

thick in the silvering air. Children strain

their faces to catch a breath above

the forest of legs. Still the crowd leans in

and in toward the sea. Pupils blacken

in black eyes the sudden moment

they know it’s too much—


the coxswain on his loudspeaker

spitting metallic words into the air:

Ferry inondoka! Ferry inondoka!

The ferry is leaving. Stop boarding!

The ferry is overloaded!

The gangplank is up; she

cuts loose from port,

travels 40 meters before


she starts to list.

Panic ignites;

the crowd staggers

as a solitary drunk sailor,

side to side,

lunging for higher ground.

People begin to peel away

screaming, groping, hurtling

one by one

to the black surface

and icy slash

of the propeller.


Seawater slaps the ferry’s hull,

bending to pull her angle

sharper, deeper—

No comments: