turnabout’s fair play.

i had my students write odes or sonnets yesterday, some of which were QUITE good. one of them was brilliant–about nothing and the process of trying to come up with something to write about. i quite love the self-reflexivity of it.

so, in honor of them, i have written my own.

i call it “ode to my ipod cardio playlist.”

mile one:

if art requires creative manipulation,


and considered action,

with a spark of the eccentric


are my electronic Mona Lisa,

a digital David,

dare i say a

sonnet of sound?

you are a polished piece


aural artistry,

giving me dirty filthy beats

that make

stadium drudgery


into pseudo dance.

mile two

multitasking majesty.

sets of three song pacemakers.

if it’s ne-yo and the endzone,

speed up.

mile three

i should think, i suppose,

that ‘NSync is so over–


Boys Like Girls and Shakira

are not an



but instead,

because of your mystical powers

of musical transcendency,

by the time my Chris

tells me

to look what he can do

with his feet,

i am more impressed

with what i’ve

done with mine.

mile four

true confessions:

fickle artistic souls

(like mine)

need new inspiration.

i’ll admit it.

temptation comes in

justin’s four minutes,

a new kids’ summertime,



miley cyrus seeing me again.

each ninety nine cent nugget

available too easily

completely within my reach.

mile five

can you mess with perfection?

i might try.

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