Friday, August 1, 2014


Does Greta give in and grade lightly?  I can't tell.  I'm not setting this up for any kind of judgement.  I just can't figure out how the character in the poem resolved the problem.

From College Misery, February 21, 2012

bad tuesday morning haiku

sunday morning: soft
yet cold, bright. winter's chilly
disposition begs

coffee, begs sweatshirt,
and the birds beg at feeders,
and these essays beg

less forgiveness than
any shame demands. instead,
they shriek like hungry

birds, hungering for
grades unearned, validation
for simply breathing.

it could be simple,
really; i could acquiesce,
ignoring ethics

and ignorance, pour
into them the acceptance
they seek but not the

learning. besides, they
already know -- right? -- like those
baby birds with beaks

open, that someone
will give them everything
they want, without their

lifting their wings. no
resistance, no flight -- physics
another class they

fail, but they don't care.
passive receptacles -- are
they more than that? mouths

open, more effort
a worthless waste of time? these
essays, motionless

on the table, less
like work than slow suicide,
deserve more than what

they have received, more
than what they will this cold, bright
sunday morning. so

do i, mourning the
language tortured, the lack of
snow, the empty mug

beside the essays
too lazy to beg for, well,
anything. the birds

know: everything
works when the feeder's full. i
toast some bread, fill my

mug, toast the sun, quit
chirping, find less savory
offerings, and grade.

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