the cat who sits outside my window

The gray pelt, speckled and striped with black

Catches my eye

As its owner lopes along the sills and eaves

To its high place,

Its watchtower crow’s nest where it sits

And winds its tail around its feet

And stares with solemn certainty at the world below him,

The empty street

Where only leaves stir and dappled sunlight dances

‘till the shadows grow

And all the colors bleed themselves to gray

And the dusk takes the sky

And through the new night, that still-silent specter watches

The machinations of life unfold

All through the night, that gray gargoyle cat observes the world,

And I observe him.

Helpful Inspiration for Animal Poems

I thought it might be fun to post music, as we mention a lot of musical elements in poetry during class. Here are some lyrics for you. I also posted the link to youtube if you want to hear it. I am still struggling with my animal poem, and when this song shuffled it helped me think a little. Something about music was a bit more helpful than reading others' poemtry. I hope it helps all of you. Even better, hopefully you won't need it.

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SfLHcmw6nmw

Birds of the High Artic
by David Gray

Baby say it isn’t true
You were never there
It wasn’t you
It’s more than I can do
To try and keep it shiny new
The gap just opens up
Between the words we like to use
And the thing that’s seen
Seen through your eyes now darling
In blue distances calling
Like the birds of the high arcticAnd you don’t have to make the move
No there ain’t nothing left to prove
Accept the plain unvarnished truth
It’s a part of you you can’t remove
Like a love that’s been
There ain’t no answers darling
Just blue distances calling
Like the birds of the high arctic
They’re calling
Like the birds of the high arctic
This darling
For the light in your eyes sparked it
Two sheets to the wind
Yeah yeah, yeah yeah
Yeah yeah, yeah yeah
Like the birds of the high arctic
Like the birds of the high arctic
Like the birds of the high arctic
Like the birds of the high arctic
Baby say that it isn’t true
You were never there and it wasn’t you
Never there wasn’t you
Baby say that it isn’t true
You were never there
Never there wasn’t you
Like the birds of the high arctic
Like the birds of the high arctic
Like the birds of the high arctic

Lingering Memories

Haunted

by shadows of you

on all the streets

we used to wander

and all the corners

where we would linger

Haunted 

by the footprints

of memories,

scenes stuck on repeat

your smile plays

on a track in my mind

Haunted 

by the lies

seared into my flesh

my lips took kisses

but yours stole

parts of me

Haunted

by the laughs we shared,

the promises we made,

the way your fingers

would brush against my skin

was any of it real?

Haunted 

by the words

that floated 

from your lips

they meant everything to me

but nothing, to you

Haunted

by all the times

I looked at you

and saw someone

broken, but beautiful

you shattered that

Haunted

by your happy ending

dancing in my thoughts

you reappear 

so I can’t forget you

but you’ve long forgotten me

Haunted

by the goodbye

you never gave

one day here,

gone the next

you already had, closure

Haunted

because I,

reached out to you

and you turned away

but it wasn’t because 

you couldn’t stay

you just wanted

someone different

Hey all, sadly I didn't make it to class on Monday but I wanted some feedback on this (not sure if it's any good haha) so let me know what you think! :)

Hi poets, a reminder that this will be great (see schedule below). I'll be at Francisco X. Alarcon's events (11:20 and 3:30)  and others. If you can possibly stop by, do. Tell your friends. 

Hope to see many of you, especially at Francisco's events.  —Ken  

p.s. note that 3:30 - 4:45 also includes spoken word and student performances (Sinclair Sexsmith is also a poet/teacher).

Also... Thursday afternoon 5:00 - 7:00 in the sunken garden, FIRST THURSDAY.

Great events (and opportunities for you for extra credit! —k.

Tuesday, June 2, Queer and Now: Conference Schedule

CONFERENCE ROOMS A & B, HINSON CAMPUS CENTER

8:30 a.m.	Check-in/Registration
9 a.m.	Welcome remarks
9:15 a.m.	State of LGBTQQI Affairs at De Anza – Jean Miller Resources Room
9:45 a.m.	Keynote: Tiffany Woods (Topic: Focus on Intersectionality and Being an Ally Within the Community and Between Communities)
10:30-10:40 a.m.	Transition
10:40-11:20 a.m.	Plenary 1: Creating an Inclusive Campus (Institutional Consistency). Thomas Ray, Tiffany Woods and Adrienne Keel. Student Moderator: Vivian Che
11:20 a.m.-noon	Plenary 2:  Interpersonal Dynamics/Calling in vs. Calling Out. Sinclair Sexsmitih, Francisco X. Alarcon and Mia Mingus. Student Moderator: Melissa Epps
Noon	Lunch w/ entertainment by student Brandon Davis. Keynote: Mia Mingus, followed by  student Hakwoo Kim.
1:15-1:30 p.m.	Transition
1:30-2:20 p.m.	Student facilitated workshops: LGBTQ Families, Police Brutatlity & the LGBTQQIA Community - A History, Overcoming Internalized Oppression and The Intersectionality of Trans Women of Color
2:30-3:20 p.m.	Student facilitated workshops: Trans Kids 101, What is a Hate Crime on the LGBTQ Community, Working Toward Being a Better Ally and Gender, Expression & Discrimination: Laws and Policies
3:30-4:15 p.m.	Concurrent sessions with speakers Francisco X. Alarcon, Mia Mingus, Tiffany Woods and Sinclair Sexsmith
4:15-4:45 p.m.	Spoken word presentations
4:45-5:30 p.m.	Next steps w/ student facilitator
5:30 p.m.	Conference ends

Actions, Thoughts, and Feelings

Here I sit in class
my brain is a muscle I don't stretch
it's washed out, belly flopped
in this unknown sea

I'm stale and a little stupid

I clash with the everyday challenges
Nothing but a constant change of
actions, thoughts, and feelings
that adapt to this wild world

I may not rack my head against textbooks
but it still sparks beautifully
as my mind makes the split second decision
to ride my skateboard through unknown trails

I'm not stale nor a little stupid.

A Random Night Log

Thank you for any comments... They are greatly appreciated!

A Random Night Log

6:21 My body is a battering ram
Blasting through the front door
Air
Carries Trash's
Heavy dose of cologne
Scalding my nose
I love it...
Makes me feel something
Feel something...
Florence
And the machine
Keep my ears company
For the beat when my feet don't clap the concrete...
My eyes are starving for a new picture...
And black girls can't be anorexic
Say two fat lips on my stomach
my left brain is an insomniac
Whispering
Create, create
till morning comes
Sun--That ever punctual dimwit--
Pokes me with it's rays--
Creating a glare in lenses...
Blurry astigmatism eyes are watering...
Tomorrow...
They promise...

7:12 Running,
High top tread shelters weeds
Housed between concrete slabs...
Daddy Long legs walk on other spider-webbing cracks...
Don't understand it's not home...
It's not home...
A cop passes
Missing a hand
Says hello,
But it really means
"What are YOU doing here?"
Pink cracked lips
Do the splits
Just Give him an easy crooked smile,
Yes, now Show him your hands...
Not Calloused.
I'm Just
Smooth
White icing pressed against an Oreo night...
Like him.
The only words I know
Are
Yes and sir...
Just stay still...
Scanning almost complete:
Over light eyes and long hair,
And expensive running gear...
There it is,
The nod...
Slowly releases my breath and I .
Mystery solved, Foxy Brown,
Hand just curiously wandered away to his gun.
Do not run...
From bear or bull
But Especially not a Shield...
Let it move first...
Until it's a glinting spot under soft glowing orbs.

8:03  A cat notices me
On the long way back
A Patchwork of every color,
Loosely Hanging off his bones...
His blue eyes
Spoke
Fluently of nine lives almost lived...
So I asked him,
Will the world ever change?
Really Change...
But he didn't answer
Just gave me a cat's smirk,
And walked me home...

Ode to Skateboard Decks

Bits of mighty tree
that send me soaring and piercing through the air
and over concrete, dirt, and what I put my mind to
when we fall, it is only I that feels any pain
but we always end up soaring together
my feet will turn you in any number of ways
you've become what the pen is to he hand