STUYVESANT COLLABORATIVE POEMS

 

 
NOTE: These four poems were written collaboratively by my Stuyvesant High School students as we transitioned to remote schooling this spring. Early on in the Covid-19 pandemic, I figured out that I could use the “question” feature of Google Classroom to create collaborative poems. Our first point of inspiration was Dante Di Stefano’s “Notes to Myself During National Poetry Month, 2020.” Using Di Stefano’s framework, my Poetry Workshop students each contributed a line to a poem titled “Notes to Ourselves on Friday, April 24th, One Month into Remote Schooling.” They could not see each other’s lines when they submitted their own, adding an element of surprise. A month later, after our study of Whitman, we used the first line of Stanley Moss’s poem “Subway Token” as a springboard for another collaboration. During a study of personal writing, my Freshman Composition students used the same approach to create the poem “Quarantine Images.” The fourth poem I’m including was created slightly differently; this one is a found poem based on “The Red Wheelbarrow” by William Carlos Williams. On that day, I invited my students to continue the sentence “so much depends / upon.” Their responses were so poignant that I just copied and pasted the feed into a new document, creating a found poem from their exact words in the exact order that they posted them.   
 
—Emily Moore, English Department, Stuyvesant High School, May 18th  2020 
 
 
IF WALT WHITMAN WERE ALIVE AND YOUNG AND STILL LIVING IN 
BROOKLYN... 
 

Inspired by Walt Whitman and titled for the first line of Stanley Moss’s poem “Subway Token,” this poem was written collectively via Google Classroom by the students in Stuyvesant High School’s Poetry Workshop classes on May 7th , 2020, during our eighth week of quarantine and distance learning. 

…He would have entered a coffee and bagel shop for breakfast. 
Walt could have seen the beautiful, pale-blue, morning New York sky hanging above the streets he knew  and loved, now empty, but he could have lived to see it return to its familiar liveliness, too. 
He would have heard the cries of support for workers every day at 7 PM, 
Seen a cloud of misfortune and panic blanket the state he loved. 
He would have sneezed and gotten fearful and suspicious looks from everyone. 
He would have heard the rustling of leaves in the trees that watched over the empty 
sidewalks. 
He would have gazed upon the once bustling streets and stations, now empty save for the lingering scent of disinfectant. 
He would climb onto his fire escape or rooftop to feel the wind and cheer for the city. 
If Walt Whitman were alive today, he would see an empty NYC where people are able to survive the loneliness with screens and new Netflix shows. 
He would have gone outside and written poems about his observations and surroundings. 
He would have taken the train to Manhattan just to see the views of the city from the bridge, his delight  
flowing in waves for the unknowing commuters. 
He would have heard a silent Times Square, 
Enjoyed the silence of places usually crowded, 
Enjoyed pizza. 

He would have heard the 7 pm cuckoo clock of applause, celebrating unknowing martyrs. 
He would have seen the quiet, empty streets as people remained at home. 
He would have climbed out onto his roof at 7pm, banging spoons against pots, making music for the children leaning out their windows. 
He would take morning strolls in Prospect Park, 
Feel the growing divide even during trying times, 
Would consider Staten Island the highest form of comedy. 
He would have seen the desolate streets of NYC. 
He would have seen the empty ferries, 
Dollars stretched thinly and families wondering when the next check would come. 
He would have regretted everything he never had the chance to do. 
He would have cooked some delicious recipes. 
He would have written odes to the men and women fighting our battle up front. 
He would have written some poems while in quarantine. 
He would have lost himself in the world of books and poetry. 
He would have seen the inequality in police activity between races. 
He would have seen how rapidly the city was changing. 
He would have stayed at home and practiced social distancing as a good member of the society. 
He would have stared out the window all day. 
He would have felt the choking toll of human loss in the air. 
He would have performed amazing recitations of his poems from his window. 
He would have ventured the "abandoned" city and look up to the skies for ideas. 
He would have clapped everyday at 7pm, 
And I know that everything will turn out just fine, even if we're moving much too fast. 
He would have found no sweeter fat than what sticks to his own bones. 
He would have seen the piercing needle of the Freedom Tower. 
He would have seen dark streets and empty alleys. 
He would have not heard sounds of human voices as the streets were filled with emptiness. 
He would have seen the empty streets devoid of life. 
He would have watched a store get robbed by 3 men. 
Walt would have written epic poems in quarantine. 
He would have to stay at home during quarantine. 
He would have marveled at the diversity of culture and language all over the city. 
He would have seen all the celebrations at 7 pm commemorating our brave soldiers. 
He would have stepped on to his balcony with hopeful hands at seven, praying to the siren sounds and to those walking to heaven. 

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NOTES TO OURSELVES ON FRIDAY, APRIL 24TH, ONE MONTH INTO 
REMOTE SCHOOLING  
 

—A collaborative poem written by the Spring 2020 Poetry Workshop Classes

Try to not stay up too late 
Try to stay up just a little longer as you text your friend at 5 A.M. 
Hope for the best, prepare for the worst 
Try to save water, but don't forget to drink enough 
Try to fix your sleep schedule without the morning commute 
One year ago today… 
Try to remember the outside world 
Try to appreciate the pigeons that comically bob their heads and coo on the metal balcony 
Try to maintain a routine for some semblance of normalcy, but turn to baking bread instead if necessary 
Try to use this time wisely 
Trying not to cry while reading Ms. Thoms' book 
Try to sleep before three or it'll be too late to drink coffee when you wake up 
Keep a level head and patient heart 
I've almost forgotten I'm human 
The sun has never felt so warm 
It smells pretty good 
Try to remember your best friend's voice without the buzz of electronic static 
Try to focus through the radical shifting world 
Try to let the sound of the rain hitting the window drown out the thoughts screaming in my head 
Try to open the curtains and let some sun in 
Unpredictable weather changes like our mood 
Nothing wrong, just increasing your velocity 
Logging into Talos, attendance taken, another day passed 
Try to get those limbs out of limbo and go out to feel the wind blow 
Stuyvesant seems like a distant memory and I long to groan at the broken escalators again 
Zoom class in the morning and I don't know where the night went 
Try to fix your sleep schedule, even worse than when we had school 
Try to satisfy Mom’s urges to gain knowledge by watching A Streetcar Named 
Desire and Once Upon A

Time in America

Try to savor the seconds, the texts, the notifications 
Try to wake up on time for the google Meet 

Try to take care of yourself 
Try to fix your sleep schedule 
Try to wake up before twelve on weekdays 
Try to make the perfect homemade milk tea 
Try to keep up with all the demand 
Try to remember to take time to be at peace with yourself 
Try to talk to your family more 
Try to keep yourself busy and as productive as you can 
Try to drag yourself out of bed before noon

Try to connect

with your friends online, 
not knowing 
when you'll see them again 
when things go back to normal 
when you can go karaoke with them again

I remember when we painted the sky with fire in our hands 
Darkness exists to make light truly count 
Everyone is louder in their anthill, not a soul to fill the crevices of life 
Rain pounding the city streets, with no one left to walk them 
Try to forget about everything 
It's ok to take a break sometimes 
Make sure to stay up waiting for Deadslayer to get on 
Try to stay awake while watching an hour long math lesson 
Remember, you can’t hide from your fears 
I like your toes… 
The red plastic water bottle quivers, and then falls over 
One month of just existing 
A faint ringing of police sirens that never seems to go away 
Try to find solace during this period of uncertainty and distress 
Did you get a quarantine haircut? 
Try to make time for the people precious to you because you don't know when you will lose them. 

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QUARANTINE IMAGES 
 

—A collaborative poem created by the students in Dr. Moore’s Spring 2020 remote 
Freshman Composition class

The sound of the ice cream truck passing by even though no one is going to buy any 
I pet my cat once more as he comfortably slept beside me 

I walked into the kitchen at 5am with a few plates in my hand. The window was 
slightly open, and the smells of the cool

night breeze and faint lychee seeped into the room

Seeing myself wearing pajamas during "class" 
My room is strangely warm, sounds of music and television wafting from my 
sister’s room and the longer outside, feeling

alive with everyone home

As I witness the golden sun creep up above the horizon, I go to lift my rose gold 
laptop up from the bare and cold desk,

while breathing in the fresh earthy air that has been blowing through my 
window over the last few tranquil hours. I grab onto the curtains before 
closing the white windows, feeling the cold and textured embroidery 
touching the palms of my hand

Looking out the window each day and seeing the bright pink flowers that bloomed 
on the tree outside my house 
The scent of fresh air and a breeze of wind greeted me as I stepped outside my 
house for the first time in two weeks 
The mind-numbing white noise the printer makes next to my desk 
The slight glow of sunrise seeping out of my golden curtains 
Opening the window and hearing the street silent and looking across the street and 
seeing Central Park empty 
The clicking sound of the keyboard was ringing in my ears, as my sister continued 
to do her homework on my laptop 
I sat down and watched the printer eat up the blank pieces of paper and then with a 
click and clattering, the once blank paper is returned filled with my work for the day 
My cat sitting on my desk keeping me company while I do homework 
The sound of complete silence outside my window 
A quiet whir of fans paired with my laptop flickering on 
Once I stepped inside home, I got sprayed with the sweet yet medicinal smell of 
Lysol spray 
I heard the roar of thunder over the music of my headphones and I turned to see 
that it was raining outside 
The smoke flooded the room and I began to cough 
"I'm slipping"

A silent realization and a last-hope dive, but to no avail 
"I'm falling" 
A gentle "whoosh," followed by a boisterous "crack" 
"I'm bleeding" 
A quiet pool begins to grow, and its too late now 
Shattered glass and shattered dreams 
These were the last moments of my favorite mug

Pressing my face against the window, thinking about the day it could've been 

The wind rushing past me as I pedal faster to keep up with my sister, the two of us 
biking loops around the park 
The smell of kimchi wafted up the stairs 
The pen clicking sound blended with “tick-tock” from the clock hanging on the 
wall came into my ears from time to time 
Learning how to solve a Rubik’s cube 
Wrapping myself up in my fluffiest blanket while the fan is on and it rains outside 
my window, as I drink tea and watch its

steam escape through the window filter

Uncomfortably squirming on plastic gloves before running errands at the 
supermarket 
Folding a no-sew face mask out of a hair scarf and 2 hair ties 
The silence outside my window, where it used to be so loud 
Playing cards with my family 
Watching endless amounts of Netflix 
I peacefully sat at my desk and was ready to start my assignments for the day, but 
then I heard my sister yelling from her

room that is inconveniently next to mine

The deafening shrieks of the racing ambulances make it seem as if the emergency is 
right on our doorstep, each time

looming closer and closer

The slow, cool, and mild breeze drifting through my fingers as I run around the dancing trees 
Staying up until 2 am under my blanket with my phone 
Looking out my window at Broadway empty at all times of the day with possibly a 
single person walking down the street 
I wait in the big bedroom. Sitting on the side of my bed and drying my hair. I shoot 
the wet towel into the laundry basket

and barely make it. On my way to turn off the lights I push in the side 
that didn't fall in then lie back down. I feel like drifting off into sleep, but 
I wait. I wait and listen to the sounds outside. The rain pitter-pattering the 
window, my sister talking in her sleep, the downstairs neighbor putting 
stuff away. But what I really wait for is the board boy to skate past my 
street. He doesn't skate by every night so eventually I turn over on my 
side facing the wall ready to sleep, but then I hear him progressing to my 
street. His skateboard wheels hitting the pavement, and the wheels 
sounding like a small car engine as it hits the uneven road. He always goes 
by fast so the sound of his wheels to the ground is pretty loud. I hear him 
stomp his foot down to push forward, as he zooms past my window. 
Then I hear him swiveling from side to side and then straight as I know 
he's letting the small decline of our street to the next, carry him and his 
sound further and further away. Until all that's left is me and the refreshed 

memory of the wheels, and my mind tricking me into thinking I can still 
hear him even though he's too far gone. And eventually there's just silence

Playing volleyball in my backyard with my brother 
I watched in astonishment as my older brother put in the last piece of a 120 piece 
puzzle, of which every piece is

completely white

Opening my front door to find eight bags of fruits and vegetables delivered from H 
Mart 
The sound of my brother furiously mashing the keys on his keyboard 
The slow but steady decline of Lysol in the can helped me relearn the concept of 
time again 
I remember the sound of my little brother whining that he doesn’t want to do his 
online homework while I am trying to

assist him

Waking up at noon and missing breakfast 
The sight of my white ceiling as I lay on my bed 
I squinted my eyes at the beaming sun as my hands slowly pulled the silky curtains 
back for the first time in the week 
Hearing the wind blow my neighbors' wind chimes 
I see papers and pens littered across my desk 
 
 
SO MUCH DEPENDS UPON 
 

—a Google Classroom found poem created on 4/28/2020 by the Stuyvesant High 
School Poetry Workshop students inspired by William Carlos Williams

so much depends 
upon 
the static of the train tracks 
my thinning stash of snacks 
the new citrus glazed donut flavors Krispy Kreme released even though they 
know I can't get them 
the promise of a rainbow 
my contact lenses 
our unemployment insurance 
walking to Rockaway from south Brooklyn with friends 
phone calls with friends 
my local supermarket 
the dubs on Fortnite 
a temperamental wifi router 
peeking and not getting headshot 
my packs of instant ramen 

my laptop 
a bowl of oranges 
my phone 
how hard I can crush my cousins at skribbl.io 
the sounds that emit from my airpods 
the glass of water on the table during Iftar 
the bag of rice in the kitchen 
watching dramas with friends 
internet provided by Verizon 
your name popping up on my screen

at just the right time

my alarm clock to wake me up before 11 
the hum of my computer 
the occasional sunny days 
my mornings 
our appreciation for one another during this time 
the time i fall asleep 
the fridge not being empty 
a few sparks in a thin copper wire 
a puny linking verb 
the train coming on time 
the hot water machine 
the thin elastic supporting my ankle 
the clock 
the low battery signal flashing red 
the comfort of friendship 
the number of emails sitting unread in my inbox 
the ingredients I use

he has a stomach flu and she’s suddenly vegetarian

my mother’s

Peloton 
bike 
borrowed from the 
downstairs gym 
to exercise hours of 
quarantine 
away

the ability to speak softly and hold one’s anger 
pancake mix 

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