Free Write, January 29

 It's not done, but this is what I have so far:

How to Show Your Mother that She Raised You Right

Don't suck down your Dr. Pepper
like it's a sports bottle. Make sure
she sees you with a book once
a week. Call her just to talk. Tell her
about a rude or stupid person.
Don't laugh at South Park. Exfoliate.
Know who Emily Post is.
Only say "shit" to close friends or
when a car runs over you. Don't
bring a guy home unless
you can tell her unblushingly
where he lives and how you met. Read
Glamour and Vogue. Agree about the
curtains in the foyer. Agree
that the neighbor is white trash. Agree
that you won't marry an asshole.
Eat mango or berries with breakfast.
Translate a poem for Mother's Day. Don't
tell her your favorite brand of vodka
or why you didn't ask for ballet lessons.
 Listen to her suggestions for mascara shades.
Be frugal. Don't steal. Correct her gently.

Junkyard, January 27

"We don't know the words in the back."
-Belle

Junkyard, January 26

"So musicians really Roger your Hammerstein, eh?"
-Bender, Futurama

Junkyard, January 25

"Romantic? We like tawdry."
-Sting

(Another) Junkyard, January 24

"You've got enough mouth for three lips."
-Mr. Roper, Three's Company

Sign Inventory, Kate Northrop's "Museum Diorama"

• The speaker of this poem is part of a museum's exhibit. The speaker is left genderless, nameless, and even eraless. Northrop only offers the description of a "bowed / insulting background--haze // of hope & atmosphere" for the exhibit. 
• The poem's first sentence ("I am not like you.") immediately establishes a contrast between the speaker and its audience that continues throughout the poem. Northrop leaves the identity of this audience ambiguous--while, perhaps, a literal viewer of the exhibit, this "you" is just as likely the reader of the poem.
• In lines 7-8, Northrop alters the expected syntax to "What you have done // with your hands?"
• Enjambments are the overwhelming norm for this poem at a 29:8 ratio. Even in non-enjambed lines, Northrop only uses a period at the end of the poem to end a line.
• The poet establishes a comparison between the stillness and endurance of the past and the (supposedly) more mobile yet fleeting present. While the speaker characterizes its existence within the museum with the "steady click" of the fan and by acknowledging that the "wind's implicit", it also appreciates that it is "free to remain here". The speaker characterizes this stillness as potential and then spent energy in its criticism of the modern audience: "What do you know // of drawn arrow, of spent shell?" When describing the modern world, the poem describes "schools of temporary children" and motion that is either reversed ("return to your cars and coats"), incremental ("step from the garage"), or altogether stationary ("roads stacked with traffic")

Junkyard, January 24

"I'd somersault to my death."
-Passing conversation