Here's the link: https://www.uclaextension.edu/pages/Course.aspx?reg=Z7262&qe=true
I hope to see you there.
Rick
Oh, this was one of the prose poems written in last year's workshop.
The
Legerdemain
Door-to-door sales is a tradition in my
family. My mother bought me from a door-to-door salesman when I was five weeks
old. I’ve sold everything door-to-door – from silverware to poison, drank Hemlock
three times as a demonstration. Slowly closing the eyes is an effective sales
tool. I was thirty-six when I sold my first tulip, a Red Emperor to a man on
his way to a funeral, stopped him in his driveway. He held the tulip and
sobbed. Selling tulips is selling desire. Other flower salesmen sell clichés.
The tulip is a nightmare rehabilitated, closer to a human heart than a rose. Tulips
are the ears of the dead. My work has hardened my knuckles. At the end of the
day I sit in my car and watch the sun set in the rearview mirror. The Monte Flame
is my favorite tulip, the way its orange and red petals cup every dirty secret
you’ve ever told.
