Welcome to Tutka Bay Lodge Workshop

Dear Poets and Memoirists,
We're about to spend a long weekend together in one of the most beautiful places in North America! I'm very much looking forward to this workshop, as you are a most eclectic group of poets and writers, and many of you work in more than one genre.
We'll have a lovely weekend of writing, forest exploration, solitude and community (and the food, as some of you may already know) is out of this world.
To enhance our experience, I am developing this blog. The "pages" to your right open onto documents, readings, and exercises we will be doing during our time together. You may want to print this material and bring it with you, and our access to the blog during our Tutka Bay time may be dicey. I intend to leave the blog open after our time together so that we may continue to stay in touch and share our work.
So bring some work with you, and your notebooks and/or laptops and perhaps a flashdrive so we can share work.
This blog will be private and open only to participants and some staff members of the Tutka Bay Lodge, so anything you post here won't be shared with the whole world.

I'll see you on September 3rd!
Best wishes,
Carolyn

Anaphora

Anaphora: at the beginning.  Many of the lines begin with the same word or phrase, and perhaps certain lines begin with another, repeated word or phrase. They rhythm is established syntactically. The mind returns to each beginning, as does a weaver at the loom. Here is a poem:

Romanticism 101

BY DEAN YOUNG
Then I realized I hadn’t secured the boat.
Then I realized my friend had lied to me.
Then I realized my dog was gone
no matter how much I called in the rain.
All was change.
Then I realized I was surrounded by aliens
disguised as orthodontists having a convention
at the hotel breakfast bar.
Then I could see into the life of things,
that systems seek only to reproduce
the conditions of their own reproduction.
If I had to pick between shadows
and essences, I’d pick shadows.
They’re better dancers.
They always sing their telegrams.
Their old gods do not die.
Then I realized the very futility was salvation
in this greeny entanglement of  breaths.
Yeah, as if.
Then I realized even when you catch the mechanism,
the trick still works.
Then I came to in Texas
and realized rockabilly would never go away.
Then I realized I’d been drugged.
We were all chasing nothing
which left no choice but to intensify the chase.
I came to handcuffed and gagged.
I came to intubated and packed in some kind of foam.
This too is how ash moves through water.
And all this time the side doors unlocked.
Then I realized repetition could be an ending.
Then I realized repetition could be an ending.

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