Open up your computers, class.

Be certain not to go first to any internet locations.

No websites, facebook, or email.

Do you know what you are here without them?


Backyard tangle of ropes webbed together,

inside of them a garden.

Mother’s gone mad.

Go find her. Tell her she’s no spider!


Some other woman is cutting her own hair.

New moon mohawk, a bit messy.

Not for some guy this time.

Then she goes for the second side, not for some woman.


Class, this is the tradition called contemplative writing.

It’s something different for each of us.

You don’t have to show these to anyone.

Write down a secret.


What is that in between those onions and the fig tree?

A deer? A fawn all by itself?

How could it get inside there?

Let’s help it out, quick but not to startle it.