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NCTE 2010 Orlando Twitpoem Powerpoint
NCTE 2010 Orlando Twitpoem Powerpoint
J. Gregory McVerry !
W. Ian O’Byrne !
Sue Ringler Pet
K. Scott Myers
University of Connecticut
There is a But watch out:
distance where roving packs can
magnets pull, pull your word
we feel, having away. You
held them find your stake
back. Likewise yanked and some
there is a rough bunch
distance where to thank.
words attract.
Set one out
like a bait goat
and wait and
seven others
will approach.
“ Much of her poetry rhymes, for God’s sake,
something almost no one’s does anymore.
Her rhymes are ‘recombinant’ — that is, as
she has put it, they tend to be stashed ‘at the
wrong ends of lines and at the middles.’”
~New York Times, March, 2010~
However carved up
or pared down we get,
we keep on making
the best of it as though
it doesn’t matter that
our acre’s down to
a square foot. As
though our garden
could be one bean
and we’d rejoice if
it flourishes, as
though one bean
could nourish us.
“Kay Ryan’s poems are as slim as runway models,
so tiny you could almost tweet them. Their
compact refinement, though, does not suggest
ease or chic. Her voice is quizzical and
impertinent, funny in uncomfortable ways,
scuffed by failure and loss. Her mastery, like Emily
Dickinson’s, has some awkwardness in it, some
essential gawkiness that draws you close.”
~New York Times, March, 2010~
Home to Roost
by Kay Ryan
The chickens
are circling and
blotting out the
day. The sun is
bright, but the
chickens are in
the way. Yes,
the sky is dark
with chickens,
dense with them.
They turn and
then they turn
again. These
are the chickens
you let loose
one at a time
and small—
various breeds.
Now they have
come home
to roost—all
the same kind
at the same speed.
The one sincere
crocodile has
gone dry eyed
for years. Why
bother crying
crocodile tears.
Twit poem
#twitpoem
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Kay Ryan excerpt
The day is sun‐scorched,
the shadows thin and dry,
as though a gust of wind would scatter them
like so many burnt pages
My eyes slip on twin dresses
drawing lashes over curves.
Soon they'll dance the night away
while I dream of you
Tenderness and rot
share a border.
And rot is an
aggressive neighbor
whose iridescence
keeps creeping over.
Point being
that some classes
won't respond to self‐generated rules,
touching,
whispers,
breath‐holding,
gentle words.
Then what?
I speak out, and
sometimes shout, and sometimes scream,
for those who have been silenced.
We are always
really carrying
a ladder, but it’s
invisible. We
only know
something’s
the matter:
something precious
crashes; easy doors
prove impassable.
Cinnamon on cappuccino foam,
soft footsteps on new fallen snow.
Express yourself on the subject of cats, or use “cat” as metaphor…
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His tail snakes.
He circles and
circles again.
Twitch.
He hesitates,
then settles
round and close.
His motor hums.
Then, again,
a tiny tap
steals him,
sleek and slim.
A cat can draw
the blinds
behind her eyes
whenever she
decides. Nothing
alters in the stare
itself but she's
not there. Likewise
a future can occlude:
still sitting there,
doing nothing rude.
Everything contains some
silence. Noise gets
its zest from the
small shark's‐tooth
shaped fragments
of rest angled
in it. An hour
of city holds maybe
a minute of these
remnants of a time
when silence reigned,
compact and dangerous
as a shark. Sometimes
a bit of a tail
or fin can still
be sensed in park
Wherever the flamingo goes,
she brings a city’s worth
of furbelows. She seems
unnatural by nature—
too vivid and peculiar
a structure to be pretty,
and flexible to the point
of oddity. Perched on
those legs, anything she does
seems like an act. Descending
on her egg or draping her head
along her back, she’s
too exact and sinuous
to convince an audience
she’s serious. The natural elect,
they think, would be less pink,
less able to relax their necks,
less flamboyant in general.
They privately expect that it’s some
poorly jointed bland grey animal
with mitts for hands
whom God protects.
Who would be a turtle who could help it?
A barely mobile hard roll, a four‐oared helmet,
She can ill afford the chances she must take
In rowing toward the grasses that she eats.
Her track is graceless, like dragging
A packing‐case places, and almost any slope
Defeats her modest hopes. Even being practical,
She’s often stuck up to the axle on her way
To something edible. With everything optimal,
She skirts the ditch which would convert
Her shell into a serving dish. She lives
Below luck‐level, never imagining some lottery
Will change her load of pottery to wings.
Her only levity is patience,
The sport of truly chastened things.
A cat can draw
the blinds
behind her eyes
whenever she
decides. Nothing
alters in the stare
itself but she's
not there. Likewise
a future can occlude:
still sitting there,
doing nothing rude.
…empowering individuals who are
disenfranchised by taking control over their
own learning and developing a deeper
understanding of one’s own position within a
community through active participation and
engagement
(Friere, 1972)
Activism in literacy can enhance the work‐
product with authenticity and increase the
author’s attention to audience. When
authentically embedded into a critical literacy
framework, activism allows the student to
become an “active viewer” and empower
himself or herself
(Davis, 1993; Tapscott, 1999; Brown, 2000; Oblinger, 2004; Kellner &
Share, 2005)
Students study the work of Kay Ryan, poet laureate
Students work with twitpoems and write their own pieces
Students complete an Internet inquiry project and search online
to find other poets, poems, or twitpoems that speak to them
Students create video/photo mashups of other Kay Ryan poems
and twitpoems
Students use their cellphones or other media capture devices to
collect images from their “worlds” that express what they see in
the poems provided by the teacher
A cat can draw
the blinds
behind her eyes
whenever she
decides. Nothing
alters in the stare
A Cat/A Future
itself but she's
not there. Likewise
a future can occlude:
by Kay Ryan
still sitting there,
doing nothing rude.
NCTE 2010, Orlando
J. Gregory McVerry !
W. Ian O’Byrne !
Sue Ringler Pet
K. Scott Myers
University of Connecticut