Another prose poem, this one from earlier this semester, about teaching, and teaching creative writing in particular. *** Ice and Oil I watch the children dance upon the razor’s edge. No slippers upon their feet, no music upon the breeze. Only shoes of ice and oil, threatening treachery with every step, every pace and turn and link and separation. I’ve danced these steps before. I have fumbled these steps, teetered upon the micrometer-measured scalpel-blade of judgement. I’ve watched my own dance drip down both sides of the steel. I watch…
Author: trevor
Driving Distracted
I’m sick of all this Tron posting. Work’s progressing but it’s time to share some other stuff. Earlier this year, I started experimenting with a form that’s kind of foreign to me. I’ve never dabbled in poetry–I’m a prose writer, a screenwriter, an artist. Not a poet. But there’s something lacking in prose sometimes. Abstract experiences are difficult to capture, and they require a much more loose structure, an ability to express the world and one’s thoughts in an abstracted way. Enter prose poetry. A perfect balance between the form…