Rock Dove, 4

One of my more recent attempts to bring Sask poetry, or any poetry (but starting with Sask poetry), and my students together, they had to write hybrid essays made from their commentary on a Sask poem of their choice, their own parody of that poem, and whatever they noticed about the difference. At least.

Reading the results, I wish there was time to do the same thing again this term. The students did well but might relax into the challenge even more a second time. The parodies (definition I go by: repetition with a difference) were devoted, almost innocent, some of them, in their obedience to orders they inferred from the poems. Minus ambiguities, rambunctiousness, denial, resistance, mystery.

I'm also touched by their sense of newness, as it occasionally seems to be, when they come to a poem from the parody side, so to speak.

And I can tell you this much about the rock doves: I drove home from the hardward store on east Vic with barbed wire, turpentine, roofing nails, exterior caulking, and weatherproof nylon mesh called DoveGlove. Also 24 feet of 1x4, flexible plastic sheeting, black paint. [Later: a cheap set of steak knives.]

If you don't hear from me for a while, it's because I'm working out there.

[next: why I'm a Leaf fan]