Positive Psychology Theory: A Way to Understanding Literature and the Creative Process

Positive Psychology Theory:

A Way to Understanding Literature and the Creative Process

Emily Bencsics

Indiana University South Bend

ENG-L 680 Psychology and Literature

Professor Joe Chaney

July 12, 2012

Positive Psychology Theory:  A Way to Understanding Literature and the Creative Process

           

            While most branches of psychology focus on specific mental ailments of the patient such as depression, anger management issues, and a whole host of other neuroses; it is the emphasis on self-potential and fulfillment that sets the positive psychology theory apart from all of the others.  Born from the Humanistic approach in the 1950s, positive psychology has emerged as being one of the only modern day theories that center on a person’s internal happiness, rather than a person’s dysfunction or abnormal behavior.  Focusing on holistic health, positive psychology has been described as a way “to build thriving individuals, families, and communities” (Cherry, 2012, para. 2).  Mainly, positive psychology concerns itself with the optimistic aspects of one’s life. 

            Developed in the 1990s, positive psychology was originally thought to deal with three main issues:  “First …well-being, flow, joy, optimism, and hope.  Second …studying personality traits of thriving individuals…focusing on character strengths and virtues…Finally, identifying, studying, and enhancing those qualities of social institutions that sustain and enhance positive subjective experiences…” (Robbins, 2008, p. 96).  Upon first examination, it may be easy to assume that positive psychology ignores the very tangible psycho-social issues afflicting people today.  However, this assumption is far from accurate.  Positive psychology primes people to search for their own inner strengths, and gets one away from a “woe is me – everything is wrong” attitude. Refreshing in its assurance, positive psychology may very well offer more than an optimistic outlook; it may very well reveal insights into one’s creative process as well. 

            For many writers, accessing the chaotic, dramatic, and downright disturbing parts of the mind is, well, relatively easy and/or common.  Positive psychology suggests that retrieving the optimistic, altruistic, and spiritualistic aspects of one’s psyche is not only of equal importance, but could actually result in a more satisfying outcome for the artist/writer.  In other words, the writer who recognizes some of the base positive emotions that come out of the act of writing should exhibit a more confident and fulfilled nature; therefore, the act of writing in itself propels the author to produce thereby continuing a contented cycle of rewarding behavior. 

            In addition to understanding the positive emotions linked to the creative process, there is one in particular that deserves attention and is a focal point in positive psychology – mindfulness.  According to Dean Robbins (2008), a “fully functioning person [has] qualities such as being nondefensive and open to experience; fully living in the moment…recognizing his or her freedom…being creative, reliable, and constructive…”(p.98).  Without sounding like a Buddhist-based self-help book, being mindful is paramount to the writer’s creative process.  Generally, writers are extremely purposeful in their creations, and the literature to come from such authors expresses attention to detail, the overwhelming need to share, and a spirituality that speaks to doing something bigger than oneself.  Obviously, there are exceptions to the rule as many a writer has produced less than mediocre effort because the mind wasn’t fully present in the work.  Perhaps this is one of those pieces, but then again, perhaps this author is hopeful. 

References

Cherry, K. (n.d.). What is positive psychology? Retrieved from http://psychology.about.com/od/branchesofpsycholog1/a/positive-psychology.htm

Robbins, D. (2008).  What is the good life? Positive psychology and the renaissance of Humanistic psychology.  Humanistic Psychologist, 36(2), 96-112.

            doi: 10.1080/08873260802110988

            

Freire's Chicken/Egg Conundrum

Freire’s Chicken/Egg Conundrum:

“Banking” vs. “Problem-Posing” Education

Emily Bencsics

Indiana University South Bend

English L502

Rebecca Brittenham

February 5, 2012

Freire’s Chicken/Egg Conundrum:  “Banking” vs. “Problem-Posing” Education

            Rarely is anything defined so neatly into categories in this world.  Trying to label pedagogy practices into neat little terms, is much like missing Gibraltar while hunting a particular pebble.  To state that “teachers either work for the liberation of the people – their humanization – or for their domestication, their domination” (Freire, 2005, p. 256), is not only insulting, but leaves little regard for the learning process involved in getting a student from a “banking concept of education” to a more “problem-posing” method.  On some level, we are all products of the “banking” educational mold.  As children, we memorize words, numbers, and ideas.  Some students listened and absorbed the information, while other students merely went through the motions.  Either way, the students never lost their “humanity” in the process. 

            To say that “[t]he more completely [the students] accept the passive role imposed on them, the more they tend simply to adapt to the world as it is and to the fragmented view of reality deposited in them” (Freire, 2005, p. 258), suggests that students are nothing but a bunch of mindless creatures.  Freire’s version of the “banking” model of education assumes that it is somehow perverse for a teacher to exhibit superior knowledge, discipline, and content selection capabilities.  It is, therefore, my argument that one cannot fully arrive at the “problem-posing” model until one has first been through the “banking” model.  In other words, the two methods are not mutually exclusive exercises in academic snobbery, but rather, a perfectly harmonious (and well documented) symbiotic relationship.

            While Freire’s concepts about education are extremely interesting, they do not feel fair. After much reading and exploring, there were several essays and texts that appeared to express the “honorable” characteristics of Freire’s “problem-posing” concept.  However, after further investigation, not one of these texts could stand alone in the “problem-posing” department without first being subjected to the “banking” theory.  In some way, the “banking” concept is always lurking in the background of these authors’ experiences. 

            The first text under investigation is Onnie Lee Logan’s excerpt from Motherwit.  Perhaps one of the toughest essays to pinpoint Freire’s concepts, after close analysis, one can see the concepts illustrated beautifully within.  While Logan’s learning may be more closely related to an apprenticeship in midwifery rather than a more traditional education, it is still very apparent that the traditional “banking” system is at work.  Logan best shows this concept when she describes her preparation for delivering a baby. “…I get up to scrub up my hands because I got to scrub em up two or three different times befo’ the baby is born…Scrub em up real good with a brush halfway up our arms.  I did that through the rules and regulations of the bo’d a health in my trainin” (Logan, 1993, p. 485).  Obviously, there has been some knowledge given to Logan in the form of training.  In addition, throughout the essay she mentions and refers to certain rules and regulations within the medical community.  While she most definitely puts her own flavor on the work she does, there are traces of a “banking” model at work.  Even more fascinating, is that Logan’s essay gives us a glimpse of how wonderful it is when the two concepts come together.  “I tell you one thing that’s very impo’tant that I do that the doctors don’t do and the nurses doesn’t do because they doesn’t take time to do it.  And that is I’m with my patients at all times with a smile and keepin her feelin good with kind words…Most of the doctors when they do say something to em it’s so harsh” (Logan, 1993, p. 485).  Unlike the strict dichotomy of the teacher-student (or in this case, doctor-patient) relationship, Logan illustrates how she uses her knowledge to become partners with her mothers in labor.  In other words, she imparts her wisdom by way of the “problem-posing” method. 

            Another essay where the “banking” method holds hands with the “problem-posing” method is from Helen Keller.  “I was simply making my fingers go in monkeylike imitation.  In the days that followed I learned to spell in this uncomprehending way a great many words…But my teacher had been with me several weeks before I understood that everything has a name” (Keller, 1993, p. 445).  This particular scene demonstrates the “banking” concept very well in Keller’s instruction.  This essay is punctuated with many vignettes of a stringent teacher-student mode.  After Keller’s teacher distinguishes “water” from “mug” for her, Keller states:  “I knew then that ‘w-a-t-e-r’ meant the wonderful cool something that was flowing over my hand.  That living word awakened my soul, gave it light, hope, joy, set it free” (Keller, 1993, p. 446).  Interestingly, the teacher (who is first shown to teach Keller by rote memorization of hand gestures) is becoming a student herself.  Basically, as she instructs Keller, she is simultaneously learning new ways of instruction herself. 

            The interdependence of the “banking” concept and the “problem-posing” is very strong in Keller’s work.  “I was forced to repeat the words or sentences, sometimes for hours, until I felt the proper ring in my own voice.  My work was practice, practice, practice.  Discouragement and weariness cast me down frequently; but the next moment the thought that I should soon be at home and show my loved ones what I had accomplished, spurred me on, and I eagerly looked forward to their pleasure in my achievement” (Keller, 1993, p. 450).  While it is true that Keller is constantly practicing, memorizing, and gripping information from her teacher (“banking” method), she is very much taking ownership of this knowledge.  She is becoming more and more self-aware, and as a result, more aware of her transforming current reality (“problem-posing” method). 

            Finally (and probably most fascinating) areas in which we see the association between Freire’s concepts, is in Malcolm X’s Learning to Read.  First of all, it is important to note that Malcolm X’s education was essentially a self-education.  In other words, he taught himself how to read and write; he taught himself the functionality necessary to communicate on a level never before realized in his life so far. 

            Going along with this brand of homemade learning, there is most definitely a sense of Freire’s “banking” concept of education.  “I spent two days just riffling uncertainly through the dictionary’s pages…Finally, just to start some kind of action, I began copying.  In my slow, painstaking, ragged handwriting, I copied into my tablet everything printed on that first page, down to the punctuation marks” (X, 1965, para. 6-7).  Here, we see the seemingly self-imposed “banking” educational system working to his benefit.  Even though there is no outside force (i.e., teacher), Malcolm X is behaving as though he is being taught be means of the oppressive memorization and mimicking methods described in the “banking” concept. 

            In conjunction with the “banking” model, Malcolm X undergoes a realization process that can only be described as a “problem-posing” model.  “Book after book showed me how the white man had brought upon the world’s black, brown, red, and yellow peoples every variety of the suffering of exploitation…I read, I saw, how the white man never has gone among the non-white peoples bearing the Cross in the true manner and spirit of Christ’s teachings – meek, humble, and Christlike” (X, 1965, para. 29).  Through Malcolm X’s readings and labor intensive self-study, a true revolutionary was born.  He would go on to become a radical leader during the civil rights era, and more than likely, would have morphed into a highly respected multicultural educator himself had it not been for his assassination.  When Malcolm X meticulously memorized and copied words from dictionaries, he was quite truthfully transforming his reality. 

            In the end, Freire postulates that the “banking” concept is the method of choice for the “oppressor.”  That somehow the act of learning through memorization, or by absorbing the teacher’s knowledge serves only to oppress peoples, is a theory that seems circular in its reasoning.  “Problem-posing education does not and cannot serve the interests of the oppressor.  No oppressive order could permit the oppressed to begin to question:  Why?” (Freire, 2005, p. 267).  Yet, it is troublesome that throughout history, one of the most sought after questions from students by teachers is simply: Why?  How is it then, that memorizing mind-numbing facts and regurgitating recalcitrant formulas does not eventually answer the question “why?” 

            Imagine if Onnie Lee Logan had not learned the rules and regulations of midwifery, or if Helen Keller had not first learned the finger-spelled words.  Moreover, what would we have received from Malcolm X had he never bothered to pick up the dictionary in his prison cell and painfully copied every word?  To divide learning concepts so succinctly like Freire does is to gloss over the importance of their coexistence. The traditional classroom learning techniques do not have to be a dehumanizing event, and the perfect “problem-posing” classroom is quite meaningless without some “bank” of knowledge from which to withdraw.   

References

Freire, P. (2005). The “banking” concept of education. In D. Bartholomae & A. Petrosky (Eds.), Ways of reading: An anthology for writers (pp. 255-267). Boston: Bedford/St. Martin’s.

Keller, H. (1993). The story of my life. In P. Rose (Ed.), The Norton book of women’s lives (pp. 444-451). New York: W.W. Norton & Company.

Logan, O. (1993). Motherwit. In P. Rose (Ed.), The Norton book of women’s lives (pp. 483-495). New York: W.W. Norton & Company.

X, M. (1965). Learning to read. Retrieved from Oncourse.

             

The Oral Tradition: A Mexican Polish Song

The Oral Tradition:  A Mexican Polish Song

Emily Bencsics

Indiana University South Bend

English L502

Rebecca Brittenham

1/22/2012

The Oral Tradition:  A Mexican Polish Song

            Before writing, there is sound; there is music in the mind long before pen hits paper, or phalanges strike keys.  Oral language came long before any written language, and has never left our side.  “Oral language is our original gift…For centuries people identified the breath with which we speak with the spirit or the soul and the language they spoke with their unique humanity” (Gee & Hayes, 2011, p. 5).  When the power and overall history of the spoken word is discovered, there tends to be a moment of excitement and wonder.  As an instructor of Presentation Skills (affectionately known as Speech class), I am acutely aware of my student’s internal (and forcibly external) music within their words.  How exciting it is to watch the discovery that the cadence, pitch, and volume of a speaker can be so integral to the message, whether it is written down somewhere or not.  In essence, my students are unveiling their own literacy narratives, and it is ironically, the “literacy” of the oral tradition. 

            Just as my speech students come into a new knowledge, theory, or idea, the oral language tradition is absolutely crucial for their understanding of this new material.  The oral tradition is especially important for those coming into a new literacy.  “…the best predictor of a child’s  success in school, including learning to read, is the child’s oral vocabulary around the age of five…Oral language development is the foundation for success in school and in school-based literacy” (Gee & Hayes, 2011, p. 18).  As is illustrated in the works of Richard Rodriguez and Eva Hoffman, oral language plays an enormous role in the literacy narrative genre, and in their personal experiences contained within. 

            Richard Rodriguez has an acute awareness of the oral tradition even at the very beginning of the selection.  “I stand in the ghetto classroom – ‘the guest speaker’ – attempting to lecture on the mystery of the sounds of our words to rows of diffident students.  ‘Don’t you hear it? Listen! The music of our words’” (Rodriguez, 2005, p. 562).  In the upcoming pages, Rodriguez goes on to reveal interesting (albeit, stressful) vignettes about the sounds of language within his home, and in the classroom.  At first reading, it appears to be truly maddening that the dichotomy between his Mexican-American household and his classroom is so vast.   “But he senses those differences early.  Perhaps as early as the night he brings home an assignment from school and finds the house too noisy for study…The next day, the lesson is apparent at school…Discussion is ordered” (Rodriguez, 2005, p. 565).  In this particular instance, it feels as though we are witnessing the end of Rodriguez’s oral tradition with Spanish only to see it being replaced by this new English literacy.  As Rodriguez continues his studies, it becomes powerfully evident that natural speech of family life is slipping away.  After a brief exchange with his mother, she responds with “[a] half smile, then silence.  Her head moving back in silence. Silence!  Instead of the intimate sounds that had once flowed smoothly between us, there was this silence” (Rodriguez, 2005, p. 567).  Although not discussed in much detail, Rodriguez must feel some sense of loss of family, or loss of culture here.  It is interesting to note that as Rodriguez descends into his new literacy, one of the very first signs of change is within the spoken word, or lack thereof. 

            As Rodriguez continues in school, “[n]othing is said of the silence that comes to separate the boy from his parents…His story makes clear that education is a long, unglamorous, even demeaning process – a nurturing never natural to the person one was before one entered a classroom” (Rodriguez, 2005, p. 577-578).  Eventually, Rodriguez senses the loneliness, isolation, and silence that being “educated” can bring.  Throughout the essay, he mentions free-flowing conversation being replaced with silence.  One cannot help but wonder if this self-inflicted chipping away of his own oral tradition has caused his recognition of his loss of a basic human trait in the end. 

 Just as Rodriguez expressed losses within the oral tradition in his essay, so does Eva Hoffman with her journey from Poland to Canada.  Hoffman’s hyper awareness of the differing sounds of her native language (Polish) from those of English plays an important role throughout her narrative.  Like Rodriguez’s selection, Hoffman’s narrative is tinged with a sense of loss for the native oral language (arguably, more so).  “‘Shut up, shuddup,’ the children around us are shouting, and it’s the first word in English that I understand from its dramatic context…I can’t imagine wanting to talk their harsh-sounding language” (Hoffman, 1989, p. 104-105).  This observation by the author gives the reader such an interesting perspective on how a non-English speaking individual might feel upon listening to a foreign tongue. 

Oral language is inexorably linked to the way one perceives and feels about the world.  “‘River’ in Polish was a vital sound, energized with the essence of riverhood, of my rivers, of my being immersed in rivers.  ‘River’ in English is cold – a word without an aura…It does not evoke” (Hoffman, 1989, p. 106).  The music of language conjures images, and not just regular images, but vivid ones, which in essence, gives us our reality.  Later on, we see these losses of word connotations as being nothing short of an identity crisis for the author. 

Indeed, it is internal dialogue that when jeopardized, threatens our very being – our very core.  From the immigrant’s perspective, “[t]he verbal blur covers these people’s faces, their gestures with a sort of fog…I’m not filled with language anymore, and I have only a memory of fullness to anguish me with the knowledge that, in this dark and empty state, I don’t really exist” (Hoffman, 1989, p. 108).  After digesting this statement, one wonders how anyone in history could move away from his or her native language.  What an amazing feat to move away from what one knows into what could only be described as a self-imposed language/culture identity nightmare. 

In addition to one’s own internal dialogue, the oral tradition is essential to everyday conversations and interactions with others.  Something as simple as telling a joke can be intimidating at best in one’s own native tongue, and downright terrifying in a foreign language.  “But as I hear my choked-up voice straining to assert itself, as I hear myself missing every beat and rhythm that would say ‘funny’ and ‘punch line,’ I feel a hot flush of embarrassment…Telling a joke is like doing a linguistic pirouette” (Hoffman, 1989, p. 117-118).  This passage beautifully illustrates how the music of language plays such a vital role in social situations, conveying messages, and overall effective communication.  

Interestingly, this shift from one oral language to another has some rather unique personality consequences.  Both Hoffman and Rodriguez experience a form of silence and isolation from their former selves.  “I’ve never been prim before, but that’s how I am seen by my new peers.  I don’t try to tell jokes too often, I don’t know the slang, I have no cool repartee.  I love language too much to maul its beats, and my pride is too quick to risk incomprehension that greats such forays” (Hoffman, 1989, p. 118).  Honestly, Hoffman appears to have been quite a witty one back in Poland, complete with the lush sounding vocabulary to back up her banter.  One cannot help but sense she misses this ability terribly. 

Because oral language is more primal than the written word, there tends to be a certain physicality associated with it.  As one is initiated into a new oral language, quite literally there are physical changes happening within.  “My voice is doing funny things.  It does not seem to emerge from the same parts of my body as before.  It comes out from somewhere in my throat, tight, thin, and mat – a voice without modulations, dips, and rises that it had before, when it went from my stomach all the way through my head” (Hoffman, 1989, p. 121-122).  Hoffman is so attuned to the sounds of words, that she can actually “feel” the changes in her own body as she speaks them.  This most definitely makes the case for the understanding of the power of oral language within the framework of the literacy narrative genre. 

In conclusion, it is at once crucial and fair that we look upon languages and literacies through the lens of the oral tradition.  Gee and Hayes (2011) even state that “[w]e have lost a good deal of the art of using, and many of the language devices for telling, epic oral stories…We still find them in poetry, but they have nothing like the robust and central place they had in oral cultures…few of us are even aware of the loss of epic storytelling as a way of passing down knowledge and binding a culture together” (p. 19-20).  In some deep down visceral sense, Rodriguez and Hoffman were aware of this; whether or not they considered it a loss remains somewhat ambiguous.  Basically, before one can write a good story, one must tell a good story; this is true regardless if one is a speech student, an immigrant, or a teacher.  It is only human, after all. 

References

Gee, J. P., & Hayes, E. R. (2011). Language and learning in the digital age. New York: Routledge.

Hoffman, E. (1989). Lost in translation: A life in a new language. New York: Penguin Books.

Rodriguez, R. (2005). The achievement of desire. In D. Bartholomae & A. Petrosky (Eds.), Ways of reading: An anthology for writers (pp. 561-581). Boston: Bedford/St. Martin’s. 

A Sodium Chloride Prayer

Enshrine my martini glass one more time

With your crystalline goodness, please.

Encrust my tongue with the taste of

Accidental sweat and no warning.

Woe is the sodium’s power slowing

My blood and curing my heart.

Salty desires do not stop so easily.

They arise like old loves and lamentations

Over ramen, chips, and pickles.

Envelop me in your purging powers

So I may be not so toxic.

Entice my eyes with what will be

My white demise.

NaCl, I am your mineralogist lover.

Despite dehydration,

I will entertain every perspiration flavor,

Every cum-soaked skin,

Every tear stream,

And revel in every grain. 

Statement of Purpose

            I took an unfortunate detour.  In 1997, I graduated with honors from Western Michigan University with a Bachelor of Arts in Creative Writing degree.  After coming to the heartbreaking conclusion that our economy does not pay poets very well, I worked a host of odd jobs, and finally settled on banking because the hours were good.  Yes, my career for the next 8-9 years was originally based on hours of operation coordinating with those of the daycare my son attended, and thus, begins my ten year detour as a banker.  

            Participating in varying degrees of the financial world was de rigueur for my upcoming decade.   I am both proud and ashamed that throughout my fiscal foray, I never once considered myself a “banker.”  When the days grew long on the teller line, I turned to jotting down poetic musings on the back of credit/debit tickets.  When the people could no longer be approved for loans, I wrote short stories on the back of apps to pass the time in loan processing.  And, when the housing market crumbled, I wrote my MBA Operations Management instructor a fairy tale.  After all, I was in the mortgage servicing department at that time, and soon I was going to find myself filling out an unemployment application.  Sadly, I was out of creative juice by the time that piece of writing arrived. 

            My years of unemployment were not a waste.  I forged a new attitude about circumstances beyond my control.  Instead of letting the hopelessness drive me, I drove straight ahead with my MBA, and completed it within 18 months.  In December of 2008, I was rejoicing (perhaps wallowing) in my graduation.  I was completely unaware how bitterly cold the first half of 2009 was going to be. 

            After so many rejection letters and emails, a person has a way of becoming a walking sinkhole of desperation, depression, and despair.  There were weeks when my days consisted of getting up, sending resumes, checking email, and promptly going back to bed.  During this time, I found that my first love (writing) had never left my side.  No longer was it “necessary” to read only textbooks and regurgitate material in coma-inducing APA format term papers.  Instead, I re-devoured my favorite authors like Garrison Keillor and Sharon Olds.  Also, I discovered Anthony Bourdain’s brand of writing and commentating that year.  Somewhere in early summer, I had mentally and emotionally cut ties with the financial world – I no longer belonged there.  And, in September, I would receive a phone call that would fully confirm my “no more banking” state of mind. 

            Being called for an interview at that time was the equivalent to winning the lottery.  Although, I had never heard of Harrison College, I was excited and terrified to interview with them.  In addition, when the Dean asked me if I’d be interested in teaching English classes, I nearly burst into bubbles of joy.  At last, someone recognized the “real” Emily hiding behind the banker’s suit.  The interview process itself went very quickly, and to my happy terror, I left with a stack of textbooks and was told I would start teaching on Monday.  This interview/textbook collection occurred on Wednesday!  Trying not to throw up on my students, that Monday went down in my personal history book as one of those life altering events, and I never looked back. 

            I have spent the last two years teaching a variety of classes to a variety of students.  Currently, I am titled as a General Education Instructor; and, while it’s true I do not have a specialty, I am honored and thankful to be teaching the subjects I love.  Teaching different levels of composition, presentation skills, and psychology, have allowed me to gain an insight that is at the same time powerful and disconcerting.  I feel that I have been able to inspire and motivate students within the communication disciplines due to my own years of being a student, and feeling the same mix of angst and triumph. 

            In the near future, I envision an even stronger position.  Through this Master degree, and subsequent PhD, I expect to achieve a solid footing in the English/Communication classroom.  Also, not only will this higher education enhance my current creative writing abilities, but I will then be able to translate that into future classrooms as well.  This degree will aid me in getting my students to seek their inner authors, and the same time, allow me to remember that every detour can lead to a great story.

           

             

Healer

When you announced a need for a biopsy

to remove a little patch of “maybe”

cancer on your back,

I grew into a granite form.

Kind of like when I come across the word osteoporosis;

automatically, I straighten as if this simple act

could somehow correct corrosion in the bones.

Deciding it must be better to dream today,

I can’t catch myself from sliding into places

where I can’t turn around and find home.

I probably would not ask you to run away

with me – to cross state lines, boundaries, borders

and divides of different kinds.

But, I am thinking it over.

Today I will dip body paintbrushes in some

secret solution to make my art permanent

only for your eyes – and it would fade

back to flesh for the eyes of an intruder.

The canvas is clean, paying special attention

to that little scar in the middle

like piranhas to a sick fish.

Smoothing it dry with multi-colored cotton balls,

I see how heavy they turn – thick, saliva-soaked,

and the opposite of cotton.

How easy it will be to apply the colors.

The outline was traced for me years ago

when I committed skin memory and, even then,

it was almost more than my ten tiny

tips of skin could handle.

As I start, I also apologize

for the cool temperature of the paint:

“Soon you won’t notice,” I promise.

Overwhelmed in colors, and me

left behind as merely a medium.

Watching the shapes of light and shadow

drift over your shoulder blades and collide

only to slide down the middle – a face appears.

It occurred to me that we are only blood,

bones, and tissues woven and spun

together to make this mass – our body –

and though I paint over it, we can’t help but become

sloppy receptacles for other’s has-beens and

want-to-be’s.

The face staring at me from your back is mine;

and if you will just be still

one minute longer,

I will perch on your thighs and take

a Polaroid picture.

But, first I must add one last mark…

Beneath the sepia “lips” that encircle

your scar, I print these words…

“With this kiss, I heal this wound.” 

Nigel's Speech

 Ode For a Forceful Speaker

(Nigel’s speech)

Rising from the industrial chair of OFFICE –

Standing and swiftly buttoning your uniform - a suit jacket.

Perhaps it shall be the pinstripe model today.

Microphones seem absurd in this moment.

Words pounce from your mouth as though

Verbiage was merely vermillion flames fanning forth.

When conviction is so strong that the

Stomach shakes and slides up into the esophagus, pushing

Further thoughts into your throat – that is how I know you’re ON.

It is a struggle, isn’t it?

To keep the language from lunging over the table and

Tumbling all around the audience.

Your socks are worn from bouncing up on the balls

Of your feet every time words threaten to take you with them.

A quick pause –

Remembering to reign in some of that daft vocabulary –

Your spectators are far from listless. 

More than an ordinary orator – you have a message and

We are LISTENING.