Each month, write a new collection.
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TITLE EXPLORATION Nurse Aid: Buried Treasure Nurse Aid: Unheralded Service Nurse Aid: A Touch of Human Nurse Aid: Care for Little ThingsAND A REVISION OF THIS POEM, CITED ON JANUARY 2 150 pounds slip, againDown the hospital bedAs risky tube feed flows Fragile skin in fecesNo back safety help is nearFor re-positioning.Get vital numbers quickSo many bodies, need careToilet, Bathe, and dressKeep steady to the planAs Xrays, labs, and docs Cut in to patientChagrin.Oral care, then mealtime trayPuree heated rightFor temple sunken patientWho ate the whole mealBecause you spoon-fed slowYou met his gaze, andHe smiled.Dash off to ringing bellsAre you the few who see?The sweaty brow, the eyeglass spotThe television loud.You're at the totem’s low But you usher Normal Here.
I like the last title the most. It really gets to the heart of what you're talking about.
Hi Everyone! So I tried working through the title and throat clearing exercises on this one, I'm not sure if they get any clearer, but it was interesting what removing the beginning and the framing of the poem did. The title can do some crazy things.The photo this poem was based on was a satellite dish reflected in a bedroom window.Original version: 27.This is the new blood, the new tap-root, which crossesthe horizon, brings images from the celestial body tothe branches, to the leaves with their chlorophyll memories, none of them individual—they are morelike the refractions of this seemingly unmovedbeing seen here in the window, a multiplicityheld in the memory of light, no perfect form but in forms.Take 2No perfect form but in formsof this new tap-root, which crossesthe horizon through our disconnectedsatellite dishes, brings only white noise from the celestial body toour upside down branches, to the leaves with our buried chlorophyll memories, none of us individual—we arerefractions of this seemingly unmoveddisc seen here in our bedroom window, we throngheld in the memory of our hands that dig,that turn themselvestowards the sunlight. Take 3:this new tap-root, which crossesthe horizon through our disconnectedsatellite dishes, brings only white noise from the celestial body toour upside down branches, to the leaves with our buried chlorophyll memories, indistinguishable from one another—we fractalof this seemingly unmovedbeing we throngdig with frantic hands that tune themselvesto the memory of sunlight. Take 4: this being, seemingly unmoved, pushes aside our horizon, glints on our disconnectedsatellite dishes, which bring only white noise from the corpse of the sky toour upside down branches, to we leaves with our buried chlorophyll memories, indistinguishable from one another—the fractal of the upside down tree we dig with these green, frantic hands, that tune themselvesto our memory of a disc of light we once saw reflectedon our bedroom window, of which we were also once a part.
Wow, you're really working with that. Those are some great changes man!
Yes Poet Cooper! Each revision reached across more layers for me and take 4 frames the images succinctly with beautiful language. Interesting that the title changes helped prompt you to these greater depths. Lovely.
Thanks J! :) This is fun.