One of the Stonecoast faculty would have his students do "imitations" of other poet's work. To try on a new style or form... their shoes in essence. I found myself writing this a few weeks ago, and realized it was an imitiation of the Traci Boztenka. (and Traci -- I think I just butchered the hell out of your beautiful Polish name) Traci is this wild wolf woman poet who writes these really primal sensual images that might seem alien to you at first -- but then the familiarity of what she is expressing at hits you later on. And you realized that you really have a little wolf howling away in you after all. So here is my imitation of Traci in very rough form.
You ask me questions.
I put the answers in petals
laid in the grass.
Punctuate with clover blushing
purple and sweet to the bees.
I hope you can read it
with your pebble stoned eyes.
I wait in the tree for you and your axe,
handle worn from your house's hands.
Cut me down. Splinter this home.
Burn it under Mars' eye unblinking in the dark.
This is what I need you to do.
Break this. Burn this.
Bury the ashes in my breast.
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