John Tennent Writes

A poem that I wrote today. You can tell I'm in an experimental modernisms class no? Faces in a writhing crowd, Crowded mass of unfamiliar people. People I don't know, or knew, Now wondering what went wayward. Weird, that I cannot seem to say, "See you me? See that I will not say how "Hard it is to see you here." Heart is neither fair nor foul Foul needs fair, and the turning of the World Worries me, I cannot find my place. Placate me with the knowing that This was not all there is to be. Belabor the idea that we loved, Living on now it was no dream Draining what I hope to feel. For truth, I will love again Against all; find me in another As you will be found in another.

An essay I wrote about language. Why is it so hard to say the things we want to say? Words Fall Through Me I sit here, grasping at words that dance behind my throat. My head is full of things I want to say, things I need to say but nothing comes out. They are caught behind my tongue, the flood held back by my own fear. She looks at me, her eyes saying everything. I know that she understands what I’m not telling her, but that’s not enough. My tongue stands still; my mouth will not form the words I so desperately desire. Words fall through me like a pitcher with no bottom: a few simple syllables I simply can’t pronounce. My first lessons in language were simple. This is a picture of a ball. B-A-L-L. Say ball . This is a ball. Rote memorization of the formation of sounds; the endless repetition of subtle machinations of the mouth. As I progressed, I learned sentence structure. I mastered the ability to form coherent statements. Grammar was no trouble. Despite my successes, I s...