There was an explosion of sweet juice; just tart enough to make me aware of it as my eyebrows clenched a bit, as I puckered.

There was an explosion of sweet
Juice; just tart enough to make
Me aware of it as my eyebrows
Clenched a bit, as I puckered.

There was an explosion of sweet juice;
     just tart enough to make me aware of it
          as my eyebrows clenched a bit, as I puckered.

The Apple

As the dull, red apple enters my mouth, I feel the cold, crisp surface run across my taste buds and I hear the crunch as I bite into it.

As the dull,
red apple enters my mouth,
I feel the cold,
crisp surface run across my taste buds
and I hear the crunch as I bite into it.

As
the dull,
red apple enters
my mouth, I feel
the cold, crisp surface run
across my taste buds
and I hear the
crunch as I
bite into
it.

As the dull, red apple enters my mouth,
I        feel the                     cold,                       crisp
surface                  run                        across my taste buds
and I                            hear the                crunch as I                bite into it.

Of Apples

I munch and crunch until all that's left are the memories (sweetness,red, and yellow) and the faint smell of summer.


I munch and crunch
until all that's left
are the memories
(sweetness, red, and yellow)
and the faint smell
of summer.


I munch and crunch
                                until all that's left
are the memories
                            (sweetness, red, and yellow)
and the faint smell
                              of summer.


I
munch
and
crunch
until
all
that's
left
are
the
memories
(sweetness,
red,
and
yellow)
and
the
faint
smell
of
summer.

3 Studies in Form: The Apple

If this is gilded facade - hiding shame - is what they call Discord, I am appalled - and Paris a fool.

*******************

if this

gilded facade      -     hidden
shame -
is what they call
                          Discord,

I am appalled
And
Paris a fool.


******************


If this gilded facade -
Hiding shame - is what
They call Discord,
I am appalled - and
Paris a fool.


******************

If
This
Gilded Facade -
Hiding
Shame -
Is what they call
DISCORD,
I am
appalled -
And Paris
a Fool.


-Will Potter

The Doll Room

The Doll Room
You walk up a lot of stairs, or you can choose an elevator if you'd like. It is on the third floor. It is at the very back of the building. You walk down a dark hallway and there will be a doorway at the end on your left. Enter the room. Immediately to your left in the room, there is a small "house like" structure. It is white. It has a white screen door. There are four windows - two on the side, two on the front. At the front on the "house," there is a small white picket fence. There are tiny red flowers painted on the front to give the illusion of real flowers. There is that nasty, awkward, scratchy green carpet that people put on their porches. Out front, there is a a fake tree. Perhaps it is a ficus. There is a small table. It has a green table cloth and a green umbrella - both different shades. There are two mis-matched chairs on either side. One is draped with a big, old quilt. The other has a puffy pad on the seat of it. It has a very eclectic look to it. It looks very cozy. It looks like just a normal house. Once you look inside, however, it is not so normal. The walls are green. The carpet is green. The ceiling is green. Looking through the first window on your left at the entrance of the room, you can see dolls. Dolls, dolls, dolls and more dolls. There are small dolls, big dolls, dolls without bodies, dolls with large bosoms. They range in size from a couple of inches to life size. Walk around to the front on the "house" and go to the far right window. Straight ahead, there is a creepy doll sitting cross legged on a chair. Do not look her in the eye - I fear she may steal your soul. She looks like a witch. With every move, her eyes follow. Next to her, there are more dolls. Some are children, some look like prostitutes. There are dolls hanging from the ceiling. There is a clown doll. There is a dolls with blond hair and bright pink lipstick. There is a doll that is more a skeleton than anything else. This is too much too handle. Off to the right, there is a wall with Jesus pictures and other religious figures all over it. Whoever lives here must be a christian. Look down, and there is a bed. The bed is surrounded by flowers. Lying on the bed, there is a rather creepy doll with a large head. I feel sorry for this one, though. She has earrings all up her ears. Her nipples are also pierced. She is bald. Her eyes are half open and they are glazed over. Her mouth is slightly open. She looks tormented. She is surrounded by pill bottles and inhalers. This is the artist that created the room. She was born a man and made the decision she wanted to be a woman. She was a doll maker. She made all the dolls in the room. She treated them like her children. She made them all and wanted them to be "perfect." She gave them plastics surgery and other procedures to fulfill her dreams of perfection.

The Family Room in My Grandmother's House

It is a very large space, ideal for family gatherings - Christmas and such.  As you enter from the kitchen, you can feel this enormity.  It stretches down the entire back half of the house, but is not very wide, almost a long corridor.  It's a minefield of toys that the little cousins leave, so watch your step!  Along the right facing wall, there is a small, almost unnoticeable rocking chair.  It's old, so very old - my great-grandmother's I think.  No one ever sits in it, it's that old and fragile.  There is a table further on that houses one of the many lamps and a plethora of magazines and baskets full of more magazines.  My grandparents never threw anything away.  There is a set of coasters here with a map and depiction of east-coast lighthouses.    Beside this table is the main couch.  This is the place where I would read in the early hours of the morning.  The place where we'd squeeze as many relatives as possible onto it.  The man couch from where we'd watch the NBA, the NFL, Wimbledon, or whatever sport happened to be on.  At the foot is a bench full of even more magazines.  The latest Reader's Digest (and usually the one from last month as well).  They all quickly find their way to the floor once everyone arrives and desires to put their feet up.  Across the way, a brief journey as the baby crawls, is the fireplace.  It's electric and has a large grill just in case any of the young ones get any ideas.  There is a carpet along most of the floor except for right around the fire place which is a very smooth stone.  The mantle above is square and rather sharp, so again, be careful - I think it has taken out at least one person before.  Above that is a still-life painting - fruit I believe.  They repainted a few years ago, and now it's much more gentle.  To either side, on the entire left wall in fact, are book shelves.  Enormous books shelves.  There are large volumes of history and theology, Clive Cussler novels, and incredibly old looking books with titles that have faded.  There lovely odor of knowledge and wisdom permeates the entire room.  Below the far book shelf is the TV, still an older Cathode Ray Tube version - big and bulky.  But, it works.  We have watched every Barbie movie known to man from that TV - the curse of having little girl cousins.  On one of the shelfs is the folded U.S. of A. flag from my Grandfather's funeral this past June.  It is both emotional and awe-inspiring every time I see it.  Along the outer walls, other than the bookshelf, are the big windows that lend to the heat in a late afternoon Virginia summer.  It's stifling.  But beautiful.  The sun comes in towards evening and gives everything an ethereal orange glow, the rays are tangible.  Along the back wall of the house is an island of chairs and sofas that seem to blend in with the cream color of the room.  This is the girl cousins' realm during Christmas.  We don't usually go over there unless we absolutely have to.  Coming back up is my Grandfather's favorite chair, the most comfortable chair in the house and where he would normally spend his days during the end.  Next to that is a standing lamp and a table with another lamp on the other side - we can never have enough light!  This also has more books and magazines and the drawer holds the remotes for the TV, DVD player, etc.  And then there's the main couch again.  The furnishings on either side wrap a corridor of open space for play or for sitting.  A corridor of memory.

Will Potter



Keeneland Horse Park: Opening Day

 

 

People are buzzing, chattering as they go.  You can feel the excitment in the air as the spring scents it with smells of roses.  Roses, roses everyhwere.  White ones, yellow ones, pink ones and red ones.  In with the roses is a mild smell of alcohol, most people holding a glass in their hand.  Women are in brightly colored dresses and high heels ranging from floral prints to pok-a-dots.  Most have big hats on top their heads.  The bigger, stranger and more exotic the hat the better.  Men are in suits or jackets, sporting their fanciest watches and sunglasses.  There is a constant, but mild, ding in the background and spectators place their bets on the horse they favor to win.  There are long lines, each housing twenty to thirty people, anxious to place their bets.  Gathered far right of the entrance is a small horse track where the race horses walk, their owners guiding them through the path and their jockeys upon them.  Their jockeys are in white pants and black velvet helmets.  Each have their own unique satin shirt, usually part white and then a color of their choice.  Owner's faces look calm and cool, showing great confidence in their horse.  Each step the horses take their manes shine in the light.  Their muscles flexing and viens protruding, for they are strong as their tiny ankles hold their weight.  The environment is clean, no trash or dirt to be found.  Above is the clubhouse, playing fun party music.  Some of those who are near inebriated dance and sing, taking their love ones by the hand and making them join in, although they are reluctant.  Continuing inside the long passage way tunnels, you see the race track.  Long, wide and groomed seems an understatement.  There is a thick, white metel bar linging the inside of the track, showing clear boundaries.  The dirt of the track is a carmel brown, recently wet by the grounds team.  At the far back of the track is the race gates where horses will sit uncomfortably, itching to be released.  There is much noise and and laughter, everyone quite happy to be there.  The first bell sounds, asking people to take their seats as the first race is about to begin.  There is hooting and hollering for the rest of the afternoon and early evening.  

Written Room of the Mattress Factory

This room is quiet and the only light comes from the yellow rays entering through the windows.  The street below is silent too, the residents of the area have already left for jobs or school or errands.  The room itself is large and industrial looking; fitting because the previous business was a mattress factory, hence the name.  The walls and floor are all a light tan color that seems to suggest a desert setting or the tan that covers a young girl on the first few days of summer.  The tan background is covered in black lettering, all connected, all in Farsi, all random.  It swirls around the room like a tornado, picking up all of your emotions and feelings and scattering them.  Sadness seems to linger here, and it penetrates your mind.  Do you feel it?  I feel it, the artist felt it, the space feels it.  Your worries and fears seem to come to the front of your mind as you wander across the floor.  No one is seeing and feeling the same memories and emotions as you, right in this moment.  You are alone, yet surrounded by others wallowing in the misery of their pasts.  Take a deep breath, remember you are not defined by your low times and failures, and leave the room.