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Assignments
WEEK 1 (9/5): Reading: William Shakespeare, “That Time of Year” (9); Sylvia Plath, “Metaphors” (221). Here's an article I published in The Writer magazine explaining the exercise we used in our first class: DISCOVERING THE POWER OF METAPHOR by Joyce Peseroff Good poetry requires powerful language. Drafting a poem, we want our verbs to be energetic; our adjectives need to surprise as well as describe. A bright constellation of images, such as the ones readers find in any number of Shakespeare’s sonnets, allows a poem to develop its own imaginative landscape. And figures of speech allow the poet who creates them to extend this landscape further. Commonly used figures of speech include simile, metaphor, metonymy, synecdoche and personification. Metonymy substitutes the name of one thing for another closely associated with it, often replacing an abstraction with a concrete noun, as when “birth to death” becomes “cradle to grave.” Synecdoche uses the part to stand for the whole; “Lend me your ears,” Shakespeare writes, when Antony wants the crowd’s entire attention. Personification can give a human face to the world, as when Jane Kenyon praises the “cheerful worm in the cheerful ground.” Simile and metaphor are both figures of comparison. “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” Shakespeare asks in his sonnet. His similes make comparisons by using the terms “like” or “as;” metaphors dispense with these words altogether. It seems to me that the act of comparison is both preverbal and basic to human development. I watch a very young infant in her crib, gazing at the fists she brings close to her face, looking from one to the other. The hands are similar but not quite identical. When babies learn to talk, every animal is, at first, a “doggy” (or “kitty,” or “buh-ie”). Older babies learn to discriminate between doggy and kitty, horsie and moo-cow, elaborating distinctions that become more and more sophisticated. Like/unlike is built into the brain, and language that makes connections along these paths strikes deep into human experience. Of the two figures of speech offering comparison, metaphor provokes more complex and various associations in the reader’s mind. Similes often associate themselves with one or two individual features. “Cheeks like roses” have petals but no thorns, and in the phrase, “small as the ear of a mouse,” no aspect of mousiness—color, scent, or the sound of one skittering across your kitchen counter—matters other than size. Or take the statement, “She’s like a sunset.” The reader may associate sunsets primarily with natural beauty, with pink and golden hues, or with a certain flamboyance. Compare this to the sentence, “She is sunset.” Added to the associations mentioned before, and deepening them, is the prospect of the day’s decline. Beauty and the end of beauty cohabit in metaphor. Shakespeare’s sonnet, “That Time of Year” is an example of comparison without the use of “like” or “as”: THAT TIME OF YEAR That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruined choirs where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou see’st the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by-and-by black night doth take away, Death’s second self that seals up all in rest. In me thou see’st the glowing of such fire That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, As the deathbed whereon it must expire, Consumed by that which it was nourished by. This thou perceiv’st, which makes thy love more strong, To love that well which thou must leave ere long. Each of the sonnet’s three quatrains employs a single metaphor. In the first four lines, the poem’s speaker compares himself to a time of year—early winter. In lines 5-8, the speaker compares himself to a time of day—twilight, after sunset, night coming on fast. In the last quatrain, the speaker is a dying fire on a bed of ash. Imagine that Shakespeare had made a list of questions concerning his speaker and his predicament. His list might have begun like this: If I were a time of year, which season would I be? If I were a time of day, what hour would I be? If I were a form of fire, what kind of fire would I be? You can create such a list when you are contemplating a situation or individual you want to write about. Consider these questions: If this subject were a form of water, what form would it be? Would it be a peaceful lake or spring freshet? Ocean or trout stream? Tap water or well water, waterfall, puddle? If this subject were an animal, what animal would it be? A tiger or hare? A rooster or a jackass? If this subject were a flower, would it be joe-pye-weed or rose? Burgundy lily or snapdragon? If this subject were a form of shelter, would it be a tent, a mansion, cabin in the woods, penthouse suite, mobile home, or studio apartment? Continue by responding, as quickly as possible and in the same manner, to the rest of this list: Tree or fruit? Form of transportation? Kind of weather or climate? Article of clothing? Color of the rainbow? Historical period? Food or drink? Musical instrument? Art or sport? Geographical feature? Astronomical feature? Room in the house? Age? Kind of work? Depending upon the person or situation in your poem, you can vary this list to include books and movies, popular songs, kitchen appliances, comic book superheroes, vegetables, board games, cities…. Be careful to avoid familiar or overused phrases like “raging river” or “torrential rain;” don’t let your words congeal into dead metaphors. It’s important to finish with a list of at least twenty answers to your group of questions. Your responses—all of them concrete, specific nouns and adjectives—will provide the metaphors for you to work with. The longer your list, the more aspects of the subject your poem will reveal. The question, “What kind of animal would this subject be?” might suggest a physical resemblance: “John is a Florida panther.” Your answer to, “What form of water would this subject be?” might describe emotional depth with, “John is a still pond.” If your flower is a snapdragon, readers will be affected by the sound of the word as well as by its visual image. Although this method might seem best for a poem with an individual as its subject, John Davidson’s ballad, “Thirty Bob a Week,” uses a series of metaphors to describe a situation—the plight of the underpaid British workingman: It’s a naked child against a hungry wolf; It’s playing bowls upon a splitting wreck; It’s walking on a string across a gulf With millstones fore-and-aft about your neck. Davidson and Shakespeare suggest two ways of structuring a collection of metaphors into a poem. Davidson uses a simple list, rapidly making three metaphors in four lines. Shakespeare extends his into a fourteen-line sonnet by answering each question in gorgeous detail. Creating a narrative from your cache of words is a third strategy. I wouldn’t worry about how the narrative evolves—your Florida panther might yodel while rafting across a still pond—but it is important, in the first draft, to include every answer to the questions on your list. It’s fine if some of these look paradoxical: can that same John be a large wildcat and a placid lake? Perhaps, through these figures, you’ve discovered something about your subject you didn’t know before. In subsequent revisions, you can decide which—and how many—metaphors to include. Whatever strategy you choose, you have discovered a technique to draw the power of metaphor into the language of your poems . WEEK 2 (9/12): Reading: T.S. Eliot, “Preludes,” part I (151); Elizabeth Bishop, “The Fish” (170); James Welch, “Christmas Comes to Mocccasin Flat,”(246), Robert Pinsky, “Shirt,”(247); Jane Kenyon, “From Room to Room” (275). Contribute Training Sessions in Gold Lab, HU0041. Editing mark--You'll notice I use a number of editing marks while commenting on your work. Here are the most common: #: Add space ( ): Close space [ ]: Omit ^ : Insert ----l____: Reverse order
WEEK 3 (9/19): Reading: Langston Hughes, “Mother to Son,” and Gail Mazur, “Baseball” (see Resources); Joy Harjo, “She Had Some Horses” (291). Assignement for 9/26: "Life is Like." As Hughes does with his staircase, and Mazur does with baseball, choose a comparison that will serve as an extended metaphor for your own "Life is Like" poem. Generate language for your poem by exploring some of the technical terms of your subject. If "Life is like a garden," what aspects of a garden can you include? What gardening terms? Remember that a poem is made of words, and discover ways to generate language and imagery that's both relevant and surprising.
WEEK 4 (9/26): Reading: Elizabeth Bishop, “In the Waiting Room” (Resources); Anne Sexton, “Cinderella,” (211); Louise Gluck, “Circe’s Power” (Resources); Etheridge Knight, “Hard Rock Retruns to Prison…” (224) ; Mark Halliday, “Functional Poem” (283). E675 SHORT PAPER ASSIGNMENT #1 DUE: WEDNESDAY, OCT. 17 LENGTH: 500-1000 words (2-4 pages) Writers are always reading, and learning from what they read. This paper asks you to think about how your reading has influenced you as a writer. Choose a poem from the syllabus, from the anthology 250 Poems, or from your own reading (including reading you’ve done for other classes) and discuss how this poem has affected you as a developing poet. You may explain how the poem has influenced your interest in a particular theme, subject, or form. You may discuss an image series of images the poet uses that you admire. You may explain how the sound or rhyme in the poem affected you, or what you’ve learned from the way the poem is structured. Please be specific—though this isn’t a paper for a literature class, and I’m not asking for a complete analysis of the poem you choose. I’m interested in hearing how a single work has affected your desire to write your own poems. Please limit your discussion to one poem. Poets are influenced by many things, including works of prose, plays, music, visual art, movies, friends, and TV (yes, recent poet laureate Robert Pinsky has written an ode to television, and his favorite TV show is The Simpsons). I’m interested in a single, particular poem that has meant something to the way you see yourself as a writer.
Song lyrics are not acceptable for this assignment. We may agree or disagree as to whether certain song lyrics are, in fact, poems. Many poems have been set to music, and many songwriters are also poets. But for the purposes of this paper, song lyrics are excluded. Be specific, be succinct, and tell me what’s important to you when you read a poem. Writers are always looking at and learning from other writers, and if you haven’t thought about how this applies to you, a short paper is a good place to start. FORMAT: Leave 1” margin on all sides. Use 12 pt. type, double-spaced. No fancy typefaces, please. You don’t need a folder; you can clip or staple pages together. Makes sure your name is on each page. If the poem is one I’m not familiar with and is not readily available in anthologies, include a copy with your paper.
WEEK 5 (10/3): Narrative poem due. Your poem may use an incident from childhood that changed you in some way, as Bishop does with "In the Waiting Room." Or you may choose to retell a fairy tale, myth, or Bible story, using the Sexton and Gluck poems as models. A LIFE TOGETHER DVD of poets Donald Hall and Jane Kenyon from “Bill Moyers’ Journal” Donald Hall and Jane Kenyon moved from Ann Arbor, Michigan, to Wilmot, New Hampshire, in 1975. He was a respected poet who had by then published five collections of poems, edited many anthologies and textbooks, and written several nonfiction books; Kenyon was just beginning her career and would publish her first book, From Room to Room, in 1978. This tape was made in 1992, after Kenyon had published her fourth books of poems, and broadcast in 1993. In January 1994, Jane Kenyon was diagnosed with leukemia. After completing a bone marrow transplant, she died in April 1995. Donald Hall served as U.S. Poet Laureate 2006-2007 and celebrated his 79h birthday in this year. I met both of them when I was a member of the University of Michigan Society of Fellows 1972-1975. I continued my friendship with both of them when they moved east. Jane and I edited a literary magazine together and, with Alice Mattison, read and critiqued each others’ work. I remain in touch with Donald Hall, who read here and judged our annual Academy of American Poets Prize 2 years ago. Vocabulary: Know the definitions of ‘oxymoron’ and ‘syntactical.’ What to watch for: What do these poets explain about their own work? Whom do they write for? What do they feel is important about their work? About poetry in general? Notice the exchange between Bill Moyers and Donald Hall regarding the poem “White Apples.” What does this tell you about how poets do their work? Compare “White Apples” to the handout, “The White Closed Door.” What does this suggest to you about the way some poets work? Which poems are your favorites? What’s different about the way these two poets read their work? A transcript of Moyers’ interviews with both poets is published in Bill Moyers’ The Language of Life (New York: Doubleday, 1995). The segment with Jane Kenyon is available in A Hundred White Daffodils, by Jane Kenyon (St. Paul. MN: Graywolf, 1999). Here's an earlier version of "White Apples": THE WHITE CLOSED DOOR Donald Hall (1990)
1. When the day arrived I Pushed your gurney to where A noiseless orderly Pressed for an elevator To drop you down and down To the operating room.
The telephone rang too soon. Returned to the hospital, We heard the exact surgeon Present a schedule: In seven months, he said, Father, you would be dead.
2. Dying men dig a hole, as if they try The climate underground before they die.
3. Dead before Christmas, you only Returned once, in January: As I slept in a familiar Bedroom, wakeful, I heard your clear Urgent voice call one syllable Of my name. Wakened I lay still, Attent and terrified to stare At the dark bedroom’s white closed door. Listening, I heard the cold rain And wind but never you again.
WEEK 6 (10/10): Reading: Timothy Steele, “’Across the Space of the Footed Line’: the Meter and Versification of Robert Frost” (on library e-reserve; password: poet). Note: Individual conferences will be scheduled by appointment this week for week 7. Please bring in your readings journal this week. Breaking the Free-verse Line
Ezra Pound, in his manifesto “A Retrospect,” urged poets to “Compose in the sequence of the musical phrase, not in the sequence of the metronome.” All well and good, but after banishing the metrical foot, what can a writer do to measure the line in ways that give free verse the impulsion of life, while remaining true to what Seamus Heaney calls “the music of what happens”? How does a poet create line breaks that make the poem not a description of experience, but experience itself? This will be a practical guide to breaking the free verse line in ways that move the poem forward and remain alert to its music.
Line breaks affect: Rhythm Melos (pitch patterns) Perception Visual symmetry Example: William Carlos Williams, “The Red Wheelbarrow”
Line breaks create a counter-rhythm to the grammatical, phrase-by-phrase rhythm of the sentence. “…it allows the reader to share more intimately the experience that is being articulated…by introducing an a-logical counter-rhythm into the logical rhythm of syntax…”(Denise Levertov, “On the Function of the Line.”)
Line breaks create patterns of sound (melos) that alter if you break the line differently. “…the way lines are broken affect not only rhythm but pitch patterns. “The voice revealed…[is] the inner voice, the voice of each one’s solitude made audible and singing to the multitude of other solitudes.” (Levertov)
Line breaks keep the poem moving 1) from perception to perception, often by using enjambment “..Such [free verse] poetry…incorporates and reveals the process of thinking/feeling, feeling/thinking, rather than focusing more exclusively on its results… “…the line-break…can record the slight (but meaningful) hesitations between word and word…characteristic of the mind’s dance among perceptions…”(Levertov) “The form of a poem exists in the relation between its music and its seeing. (Robert Hass, “One Body--Some Notes on Form,” Twentieth Century Pleasures)
2) from inception to completion in a way feels discovered rather than given. "A sonnet may end with a question, but its essential, underlying structure arrives at a conclusion." (Levertov)
"In the early 20th century, painting got ride of perspective, music of tonality and poetry of meter and rhyme so they could tell what ending felt like again, and give it again the feeling of making." (Hass, “Listening and Making,” p. 120)
Line breaks communicate meaning through shape on the page. "…I care aesthetically for the visual, for the look of the lines on the page…Extreme asymmetry can be handsome, if it is consistent and never confuses audibility…The unacceptable visual mode is almost-but-not-quite. The asymmetric poem collapses into quatrains for a moment. The poem of six line stanzas goes to seven lines once, four lines elsewhere. "Visual shape is not just the number of lines, but their length. If a poem of 25 lines has 17 lines which are 8 to 11 syllables long, don’t let the next 6 lines each be longer than the one before…The chinless poem is also deplorable. Any of these departures from norms…scream inadvertence. Any notion of inadvertence diminishes art. “'The line gets longer because I needed more words.' Such a reason shouts out that the poet cares for what he or she might call meaning rather than song or art or form. The only implacable demand of art is that it remain a single whole thing: shape and song, aesthetics and import, must be one."(Donald Hall, “Knock Knock II,” p. 15, APR, Jan./Feb. 2006)
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Woods Hole Ferry
Crossing briefly this mirrory still Galilean blue water to the heaven of the affluent, the users-up, unconsciously remote from knowing themselves our owners and starvers, occupying as they always have, to no purpose, the mansions and the beauty of the earth for this short while before we all meet and enter at the same door.
Franz Wright Five Points Volume 9, Number 2 * To Live ByWork from the original toward Even the mouth's being Eavesdroppers fear Wake up, wound, the knife said. Bill Knott * Patience
Patience is wider than one once envisioned, with ribbons of rivers and distant ranges and tasks undertaken and finished with modest relish by natives in their native dress. Who would have guessed it possible that waiting is sustainable — a place with its own harvests. Or that in time's fullness the diamonds of patience couldn't be distinguished from the genuine in brilliance or hardness.
Kay Ryan
Patience is wider than one once envisioned, with ribbons of rivers and distant ranges and tasks undertaken and finished with modest relish by natives in their native dress. Who would have guessed it possible that waiting is sustainable — a place with its own harvests. Or that in time's fullness the diamonds of patience couldn't be distinguished from the genuine in brilliance or hardness * Maiden NameMy daughter's teacher is named
My daughter's teacher is named Olenik — my maiden name, and Olenik was the name of a therapist I talked to once about my dread of lightning —I finally bought a lightning rod instead.
There's even a Russian poet who spells his name with a c instead of a k but may share my taste for melancholy, my ice blue Slavic eyes. I was never really a maiden anyway, not the way I like to think of that word —Rapunzel or the milkmaids in Elizabethan lyrics, and I haven't used Olenik in fifty years. But hearing that name spill out again so casually from my daughter's shapely Olenik mouth is like waking up after a too long sleep and having to rub the syllables from my eyes. * from Robert Hass, Twentieth Century Pleasures
From “Listening and Making:” Because rhythm has direct access to the unconscious, because it can hypnotize us, enter our bodies and make us move, it is a power. And power is political (Hass, p. 108)
Sexual pleasure is a merging, a voluntary abandonment of the self; insight is freeing, the central experience of our own originality. We don’t know what death is. The wish behind the human play of artistic form is to know how these three are related: probably it is the hope that they are, or can be, the same thing. (Hass, p. 119)
It should be clear now that free-verse rhythm is not a movement between pattern and absence of pattern, but between phrases based on odd and even numbers of stresses. (Hass, p. 126) * Hass attempts to find a structure, similar to Williams’ “Variable foot,” (each 'foot'--or line-fragment--a held moment or unit of measure within an unfolding apperception) to describe stress patterns in free verse—each line a balance of stresses within phrases separated by one or more caesurae.
TURNing and TURNing in the WIDening GYRE (4) The FALcon CANnot HEAR the FALconer; (4) THINGS FALL aPART; /the CENtre CANnot HOLD; (3/3) MERE ANarchy is LOOSED upon the WORLD, (4) The BLOOD-DIMMED TIDE is LOOSED, /and EVerywhere (4/1) The CERemony of INnocence is DROWNED; (3) The BEST LACK ALL conVICtion, /while the WORST (4/1) Are FULL of PASsionate inTENsity. (3)
If Yeats had written:
The BLOOD-DIMMED TIDE is LOOSED; And EVerywhere the CERemony of Innocence is DROWNED; The BEST LACK ALL conVICtion, While the WORST are FULL of PASsionate inTENsity
the passage would not be less regular, but the sound has gone dead. The extra unstressed syllables in the second and fourth line make them seem to sprawl out, and the pattern of stresses feels leaden, fatal: 4, 4, 4, 4. As it is, Yeats gets the fatality but also a sense of something broken, unbalanced: 4/1, 3; 4/1, 3….[A]t the level of form the difference between the strategies of free and metrical verse is not very great (Hass, “Listening and Making,” p. 122).
Farm Picture
Through the AMPle OPen DOOR/ of the PEACEful COUNTry BARN, (3/3) A SUNlit PASture FIELD /with CATtle and HORSes FEEDing. (3/3) And HAZE and VISTA,/ and the FAR hoRIZon FADing aWAY (2/4)
Walt Whitman
The principle is that for a thing to be complete, it has to change. And the kind of change indicates how you feel about that fact.
#1 And haze, and vista.
#2 And haze, and vista, and the far horizon.
All of these [endings] seem plausible…the first…is balanced…To my ear, the last line is not excessively abrupt, but…throws a terrific weight of disappointment or longing onto what is not present, so…the last line, thunk/thunk, seems an ironic echo of the amplitude of the first lines. The second…is also balanced…too much so. If there is such a thing as sentimental form, this is sentimental form…there is no tension between the solidity of the barnyard and the hazy vista. (Hass, “Listening and Making,” p. 124-5)
WEEK 7 (10/17): Individual conferences—no class meeting this week. Please bring all drafts of poems you’ve written so far. SHORT PAPER DUE
WEEK 8 (10/24): Writing in forms, cont’d; Writing in forms: alliteration, assonance and rhyme, both full and slant; Shakespearan, Petrarchan, and American sonnets. P.B. Shelley, “Ozymandius” (64), John Keats, “When I Have Fears…” (67), E.B. Browning, “How Do I Love Thee?” (83), Claude McKay, “America,” (154). Writing assignment--write a sonnet in a classical (Shakespearian, Petrarchan) or modern form. This is your last required assignment. After week 9, you may do the suggested exercise, submit a revision, or hand in a poem of your own to fulfill your weekly writing assignment. Book review assignment due 11/14: be sure to give me the title of the book you plan to review this week: E675 BOOK REVIEW ASSIGNMENT Length: 750-1250 words (3-5 pages) Writers read, and writers evaluate their reading. For this assignment, you will evaluate a single book of poems published during the last ten years by employing the form of a book review. Your book review is more than a thumbs up/thumbs down; you’ll need to describe the nature of the work you’re reviewing, place it in context of work you’re familiar with, and explain its strengths and weaknesses. You’ll impart to readers of your review knowledge of what the book’s about and whether it’s worth reading. Your book review must include discussion of: 1. The author’s themes and subjects What are his/her concerns? What images, scenes, and/or characters appear and reappear? 2. The author’s style What sort of voice does the author create? How does he/she use line breaks, meter, rhyme, and other techniques? 3. The author’s strengths What does he/she do well? Be sure to give examples 4. The author’s weaknesses (if any) How do some poems fall short of expectations they arouse in the reader? Be sure to give examples. For examples of poetry reviews, read the New York Times Book Review, Poetry Magazine, Harvard Review, or the “Prose Features” section of Poetry Daily <www.poems.com>. Remember that book reviewing is a form of journalism, and uses the “inverted pyramid” structure, with the most important information given first. Consider the audience for your review: are your writing for the general newspaper-reading public, or for the more specialized audience Poetry caters to? You may choose to do either, but be consistent in your approach. It’s best to choose a book by a poet you like. Review a single volume of poems rather than a book of collected or selected poems, which requires discussion of the poet’s development and more space than this assignment allows. First books are always a good choice; it’s instructive to see how a writer begins his or her career. WEEK 9 (10/31 ): Workshop begins this week.Word choice and word order in creating the sestina and villanelle. Elizabeth Bishop, “One Art” (172); Dylan Thomas, “Do Not Go Gentle…” (178); Alice Fulton, “You Can’t Rhumboogie…” (298), Alberto Rios, “Nani,” (299), Elizabeth Bishop, “Sestina,” <http://www.sccs.swarthmore.edu/users/03/ahead/sestina.html> Read descriptions of Sestina and Villanelle in Myers. Assignment: Write a sestina or villanelle. Workshop: Valerie, Kevin, Andrea S., Amy, Paul
WEEK 10 (11/7) Found poetry: looking for possibilities around you. Anne Carson, “Sumptuous Destitution” (287). Read descriptions of Found Art and Found Poem in Myers. Assignment: write a found poem using text from newspapers, books, road signs, etc. Workshop: Jason, Andrea D., Rachel, Priscilla, Karen, Heather WEEK 11 (11/14): BOOK REVIEW DUE. Please bring in your readings journal this week; I’ll return it during your individual conference. Workshop: Valerie, Kevin, Andrea S., Amy, Paul WEEK 12 (11/21): Individual Conferences; no class meeting. Please bring all drafts of poems you’ve written since our first conference and you plan to include in your final portfolio.
WEEK 13 (11/28): Dramatic monologue and dialogue: Robert Browning, “My Last Duchess” (89); T.S. Eliot, “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” (147); Ai, “Why Can’t I Leave You?” (273). Read descriptions of Dramatic Monologue, Persona and Soliloquy in Myers. Final a ssignment--write a dramatic monologue in the voice of someone other than yourself. Workshop: Jason, Andrea D., Rachel, Priscilla, Karen, Heather WEEK 14 (12/5): Field Trip: A unique chance to sample 15 of Boston's outstanding poets, including Nobel laureate Derek Walcott and former U.S. Poet Laureate Robert Pinsky. 871 Comm. Ave. is on the SE corner of Comm Ave. and St. Paul's St. (Green Line B, St. Paul's stop). Parking may be found on the street on Comm. Ave. Driving directions from campus: Take 93N toexit 20, Mass Pike (I 90) W. Take exit 20 from Mass Pike to Cambridge/Somerville. Bear right onto Soldiers Field Road to get onto Storrow Drive. SOLDIERS FIELD RD becomes STORROW DR / JAMES J STORROW MEMORIAL DR. <0.1 miles Map WEEK 15 (12/12): “Lightning Round” Revision workshop: Valerie, Kevin, Andrea S., Amy, Paul Jason, Andrea D., Rachel, Priscilla, Karen, Heather. READINGS JOURNAL DUE.
FINAL PORTFOLIO DUE MONDAY, DEC. 17, 7:00 pm. Your final portfolio consists of final drafts of 8-10 poems you've written and revised during the semester. Each poem should begin on a separate page. Pages should be numbered, and your portfolio, like a chapbook, should have a title and a table of contents. You don't need a fancy binder--a folder or a clip will do. Please don't put poems in plastic sleeves (I need to take them out to comment on them). I can return portfolios to you: 1) during winter break--contact me for a mutually convenient time. 2) during spring semester--contact me for office hours. 3) through the mail if you leave me a stamped, self-addressed envelope.
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