Workshop Tuesday April 1

Workshop Material (Capstone)



A.I.R

For the longest time I used to tuck memories underneath my pillow.
There was a certain thrill in it,
a minute safety that only I could feel.
I never thought to open my soul and stuff them inside.
To let myself feel them.
They just collected,
like a growing mound beneath my head.
Until one day I realized—
that they were yours.
I was hoarding something that wasn’t even mine.
This distinction came from hard work.
It was not some glowing epiphany—
some cataclysmic realization.
There was no “zation.”
It was just real.
It’s real when you don’t know where you’ve been.
When you’re not sure who has which piece of you.
As much as I hate to admit it,
your piece is quite substantial.

And the thing is,
Where I used to put them under my pillow,
I have now thrown them into the air.
And though they roar and nip at my skin,
and although I may breathe them in,
they will never fully be a part of me.

They will always manipulate…always taunt.
They will Always Interfere with Reality.





Fades to Gray


I saw you the other day at a coffee shop.
You looked at me out of some momentary confusion…
as if you thought you recognized me.
But you didn’t.
I thought about the lake,
that glistening behemoth scrunched between rugged peaks,
when your flavored tortilla chips fell into the water.

The gray in your beard startled me.
I looked away for a second, then back again at your faded hair,
which used to be jet black.
Another feeling came over me,
and I couldn’t help but think that I survived 400 million sperm just to sit at this table across the restaurant from you.
This place.
My memories.
And you’re malice.
Like Three’s Company,
only this episode won’t make you laugh.
It will only pull the rug out from under you.

Black always turns to gray, doesn’t it?
Give it enough time, and it will.
It is inevitable.
Tragedy has befallen me.
I know that now.
I recollect a point in time when I was thirsty for your approval—
when I waiting aimlessly for that life-giving water…
that would never come.
I stood up and made my way towards the door,
yet I didn’t cast a fleeting glance behind me like I thought I should.
I left you alone…
thinking that I was a stranger.

Progress through Capstone

Ever since I first heard about the Capstone Project for the major, I've been going through what I would ultimately do in my head. I don't really care about the fact that I have to perform it...I just want to do justice to the four years I've spent in the program, and since I'm also graduating, in college as well. My project will focus on unconscious and conscious feelings and memories regarding my dad.

I started with a series of slam and sound poems, each one repetitive and fragmented, like our memories. One of them is called "Aluminum," which navigates some pretty treacherous waters. I then started working on a series of short stories, most of them one to two pages in length. They aren't necessarily flowing or methodical. They, like the poems, are uniquely discombobulated.

By the end, I'm hoping that this project will help me move on and grow as a person. The creative writing program helped my writing grow by leaps and bounds, no doubt about it, because my writing used to be very generic. I've mostly been writing late at night, and I have a lot of work still to do. I wish I can say that this project has gone swimmingly so far. That wouldn't be accurate, as it has been difficult. Maybe emotional would be the best word. I can only do a little at a time because of that, but I will make sure that I stay on course.