Monday, June 4, 2012

Why I am Writing a Dissertation

For my students, the ones
that click their pens like
a detonator
the ones that can’t fit
all of their life into my classroom

For the soldiers in unpronounceable places,
their ability to do
what I did not, could not
for the wind and the words
and the open mouthed earth,

for those that came home
to banners, balloons, babies
to an empty gate and a
lost bus ticket

for the day after the parade.

For the teachers who can’t teach them
for the schools that can’t fit them
for the students who were soldiers,

I am trying to open the windows.
I am trying to fill this place with light.

On Denzin (1989) Interpretive Biography

There is only fiction
only character and plots
redemption, revelation, and response

Only the stubborn oak
and its many branches

the acorn it drops

and the soil it finds.

Facts, facticities, truth, reality
are not as malleable as much as they are

Even while I write this I am
writing a poem
writing a poem about truth
writing a poem about truth and hungry

These are not extended descriptions
of one man.  These are three men

All very much alive

All wrestling for the same black pen.