Category: Writing

“Patchwork plagiarism” refers to
a. using your own work more than once.
b. using quotation marks sometimes and paraphrasing at other times.
c. replacing some words in a sentence with words you find in a thesaurus.
d. none of the above

Which sentence is written correctly for present tense?
1) Vance Refrigeration sets the standards for top-performing HVAC companies.
2) Vance Refrigeration is setting the standards for top-performing HVAC companies.
3) Vance Refrigeration set the standards for top-performing HVAC companies.

Module 4
Question 3
3) With regard to researching and writing a paper with proper citations, which behavior is least risky?
assuming that you need to memorize citation formats
bringing in citations when you doubt they are necessary
cutting and pasting from websites into your notes
disregarding instructions and not asking for help

Instructions: READ THE FOLLOWING BOOK
Corazon by Yesika Salgado down below then answer the following questions:
Describe the overall reading experience. Have your thoughts about the book changed or stayed the same? Why?
What was your favorite poem or section? Why?
What did you think of Salgado’s organization and writing style?
Give a recommendation of the book. To whom would the book appeal? You can use the following starter statements to help you with this section: “If you like…, you will love this book” or “I recommend this book to anyone who likes…”
Section one: THE HUNGER
Jenny and I
mangoes / the green ones / we used stones or large sticks to knock from their branches / we’d sit and eat / then and there / our small buckets in our laps / a bag of salt between us / the cows and their large soft eyes would stare / eyes like a first time lover / like a face so tender
it might cry / we were children then / you and I / our grandmother Mamita was still alive / she stood at the
top of the hill and yelled our names / there was a river behind us / a small quiet thing we’d wade into / when no one was watching / one time you and the boys knocked over a beehive / and ran so far up the hill it looked like you were flying / I wasn’t with you that day / I was afraid of everything / except the poems / they’ve always been here / you would leave for adventures in that country we considered wild / all that green / all those animals / I preferred my pen and paper / my bare feet on concrete / my hot coffee at 3 pm / overhearing Tia gossip with Mamita / the green mangoes in their buckets / slowly changing / like you and I / the summers I wore my adolescence like a yoke / my heart as heavy as clay / love a dangling fruit I ached to eat / and you remained a little girl / laughing into a sky we call home / but know nothing of
A Salvadoran Heart
I.
I come from women of corn and cotton fields / of machete and fire / of water and stone / I am the daughter of a river and mango tree / my tongue came to me through the jocote seed / my heart belonged to the ocean / before it found my body
II.
every man I have loved does not know my country / has not been awakened by the roosters’ crow / does not know the swell of grass and dirt beneath June thunderstorms / does not smell burning wood and think of home
III.
I learned to forgive before I learned to speak / to turn palms upward to God and my lover / to let a man ruin
me with his love / to call the ruins sacred / to uproot everything and call the new place mine / to name the nostalgia something sweet / a ripened fruit growing out of a dying tree
IV.
my father died and my mother remained alone / I am and unmarried / I am asked if I want a husband / asked if I will return to my country / they are the same question / I do not want to answer
Cafe Con Pan
Papi would sit on the floor
his cafe con leche
poured into a bowl
he’d call me to him
placing strips of pan dulce
on a plate between us
together we’d drown them
into the coffee
from another room
Mami would say
deja de darle cafe a la niña
he’d laugh
kissing
the little rolls
on my legs
years later
when the alcohol
had done its work
and he was dying
I’d sit next to his bed
watching his shaking hands
dunk cookies into coffee
this is what I know of love
the sweet mouthful
a messy thing
dissolving
in my hands
on my tongue
filling everything
What I Know
1. all the bus routes that take you in and out of Downtown Los Angeles
2. the names of every street between Silverlake and Echo Park
3. what each store was before the gentrification
4. the corner we found my father on after a diabetic shock
5. the alley Mami had us walk through the night Papi hit her
6. the clinic where I saw my first therapist when I was 12
7. the parking lot where a drunk Papi tried to teach me to drive
8. the Rite Aid I got banned from for shoplifting
9. the store that doesn’t I.D. for beer
10. the old Zoo
11. Griffith Park and its secret corners
12. Glendale and its shopping mall
13. Santa Monica beach and my two sisters
14. Papi’s old car parked on our block
15. my body a glowing star within it
16. my first love and his hands around me
17. the jacaranda tree where I cried him out of me
18. the dead end where I took my next lover
19. the condom wrappers by the 101
20. Fairfax and Melrose
21. another lover and his car
22. his hand on my knee down Sunset
23. the apartment in Culver City
24. the break up in Westwood
25. in Hollywood
26. on Broadway
27. the hospital in East L.A.
28. the two fetuses it kept
29. California Hospital
30. my father, it kept
31. the grief I left everywhere
32. what this city takes
33. what this city gives
34. what I cannot forget
35. who I was before I knew
what I know now
before these
palm trees
loved me
back
Asking
I want love so bad
I chew on it in my sleep,
brush it into my gums
have you seen my quick smile?
this question laid across my face
asking
is it you? is it finally here?
I say I want love
but I know it’s not true
when it comes,
what will I do
with this habit
of asking for what
I do not know how to keep?
Unknown
couples make me uncomfortable
how their bodies lean into each other
faces lit with the mischief of being publicly in love
one bold hand fitting into another
right there, where we all can see
I know love,
I learned it somewhere else
with no sun
and the windows shut
I am comfortable there
I think
Fat Girl Wants Love
I am in love / I am a fat girl / sometimes they are not the same thing / sometimes they are / he tells me he loves me / he keeps me a secret / I love him / I am a fat girl / this is the same this time / he doesn’t have a name / he has too many names / I am good at loving in dark places / see: his mouth / see: his bedroom / see: the way I still smile when he lets my hand go in public / I love hungry / remember the time I ate my heart out in a movie theater / I was alone / remember the time I threw up all my fast food in a shopping mall bathroom / I was alone / remember the time I shoved my fingers down my throat / remember I failed / remember I wanted to die / remember when he kissed another woman in front of me / how I looked at her body / how I wanted her too / wanted to wear her / squeeze into her / I am a fat girl / I am in love / there is a joke here / he calls / my body wants to answer / my uncles used to say they needed longer arms to hug me / they would laugh / I would too / I grew up thinking no one could hold me / but he did / when no one was watching / it’s okay / I don’t watch myself all the time either / I am in love / I am hungry / this is synonymous / I wonder if my stomach and heart live in the same place / I gained weight again / I cry during my lunch break at work / I eat ice cream on my way home / I haven’t been touched in months / someone rubs my back at an open mic and I feel the tears coming / I am a sad girl / I am a fat girl / I try and separate the two / I laugh a lot / I wear bright colors / things that say watch me / say come here / say wear me like a ribbon / a feather in your hat / something sweet on your lips / I want to believe it / I choose to believe it / I am in love / I forget with who / I say myself / most of the time it’s true
Moonlighting
my girl broke up with her man months ago / yet here they are / grinding on the dance floor / he / a salivating mouth / she / ripe fruit / I am not a person here / I am the disco ball reflecting all over her face and his hands and her thighs and his hips and their complicit smiles / wondering what love like this tastes like / all I am is mirrors / another name for this is poet / I write  about love so much it fills a room / but it ain’t mine / I am good at reflecting / you can also call this the moon / the couples are dancing beneath my strobes / I drink another drink / hoping to consume enough light / to climb out of my skin / and down to dance
Cumbia
play a cumbia for me / que sea la sonora dinamita / that one about no one knowing her suffering / play it / let me dance to her broken heart / I am good at this / turning heartache into a party / I learned it from my family / from Papi and my Tios / I know there is no pain / some liquor can’t keep at bay / I also know the danger of that magic / I play with it the way some play with fire / I was taught / that death and power / are always served in the same cup
Celibacy
2 a.m.
there is a bed,
a body,
too many degrees,
sheets that stick to skin,
a mouth
with not
much to do
curls
around the night
the way
it could curl
around your salt
but
the body
is alone
in a bed
that feels
like stone
the body,
asleep now,
tosses one arm
over her head.
her mouth
empty.
what a shame.
After Another Bad Date
it isn’t that I like him / it’s that I like the idea of being wanted / someone willing to open my doors and windows / let some light in where it hasn’t been in a while / my girl says he is wack and I can do better / I laugh / we are at a bar and both our shoulders catch the neon lights / we drink the night away despite our early mornings / this is what I want / someone to lean into me with laughter / tonight it’s her / tomorrow / ask me his name / I won’t remember / but my friend / her smile / I’ll keep.
Friday Night
where do you want to meet?
the stranger asks via text
I, on the other side of the screen, smile coyly
anywhere
I type
in my head
a poem begins
this habit of
turning every man
into the next
Blind Date
what are your poems about?
I take my time stirring my coffee. I put a forkful of guava cake in my mouth. I sip. I think of my parents, their country, my sisters, my dead father, my dead grandmother, my little niece and nephew, their perfect smiles, the men I’ve loved to gluttony, the sex in the back seats of cars
and alleyways, the dance floors with a strange mouth to my neck, my mother’s graying hair, my overdrafted bank account, my coffee-stained teeth, the times I’ve laughed so hard the room spun, the moon at 3 a.m., I think of it all and reach for the sugar. I spoon it into my cup.
mostly about me.
My Depression Has
Questions
and if he loves you, what is next?
will you warn him about all your crying?
it happens too often to ignore he will be   telling you something about a coworker and suddenly there it is
the river behind your grandmother’s house winding down your face, your throat, your lap
are you going to ask if he can swim?
or will you wait,
hoping he drowns
like the rest?
Ansiedad
esta locura viene y yo
pues
yo me voy con ella
Motherhood
I want to be a grandmother one day
but for this, I must be a mother first
though my body does not want motherhood
it tells the babies to go home
I am not a home
when the first baby bled out of me
my ex said it was okay
said he didn’t want any children
the second baby I wanted to keep
the father did too
but when the blood bloomed
like a carnation
on my nightgown
my lover disappeared
now,
I have turned men into my children
I raise them
into who they never knew they could be
love them through their mistakes
reproach them when they stray too far
their lover and their mother
a hungry womb with no teeth
at night,
I hold their heads to my breasts
and breathe in their scent
aren’t I a home baby?
and like this, we fall asleep
Section 2: THE FRUIT
If you love me, even a little, I will call you corazón
Hand Holding
mine were warm
and yours were big enough
to lose mine in
I remember thinking
they were softer than I expected
my fingers slid between yours
– perfect
I said
you squeezed back a yes
we walked half a block like this
regular conversation
I don’t know how
because all I was,
was a hand
being held by you
look at the moon, you said
we stood
my body a kite in the wind, kissing the stars, tethered
to land
to you
Faith
I am not a religious woman
but I remember
the first time
I made you laugh
all the air around me
became a gown
the white of your teeth
something to walk
down an aisle for
I needed to find your God
and ask him to forgive me
for trying to love
anyone else
before you
A Kiss
I was drunk and he wasn’t. we kissed and halfway through, I laughed. my open mouth pressed over his open mouth. he held me closer. laughed too. we shook with our arms around each other. the sky wasn’t a sky anymore. it was the ground. I stopped being myself and he wasn’t my darling. instead, we were new. better than a moon. or star. or sun. we were everything and nothing. we stood that way for years or maybe seconds. laughing and kissing. I don’t remember what was funny. I only recall the explosion. how in that moment I understood why I have been willing to ruin myself for love. when it’s good, it feels like dying and being born all at once.
Aguacate
he scooped
the kiss out of me
as if I were
a ripened
avocado
sliced in half
and he
the spoon
come to
claim me
Communion
I want your mouth
between
my folds of skin
here, within the rolls
the part that is
a timid brown
the flesh that
doesn’t know the sun
I want your kiss
in the places
only I have been
take my fat
and call it glory
call it supper
call it a meal
you’d ask for
on your knees
take this
bread
it is my body
now turned
yours
Overnight
I left my toothbrush
on his sink
in his bathroom
in his home
a tiny anchor
lowered into his port
stay here,
he said
and I did
Peluda
I used to leave your house before we fell asleep / tell you I had to get home before work the next morning / explain that I needed my own bed and hair products / you’d move closer to me / lay an arm over my chest /
stay
/ I would blink at the ceiling / wait until your breathing grew heavy / slide out of bed and into my clothes / order an uber the night sprawled out before me as I made my way home / to the razor blade in my shower / the hair on my chin growing / a hundred little fingers ready to give me away / ready to show you I am not the woman you think I am / that sometimes I am grizzly / manic / human
one day / I didn’t leave / you said love / I believed it / the sun found me and my bearded chin in your kitchen / stirring oatmeal / your hands on my waist / a soft song playing /
so this is what it means to stay
Mine
let me / leave / lipstick prints on all your coffee mugs
a hair tie by the sink / socks in your blankets
take up space / mark you mine
Dulzura
mi corazón, cielito lindo, tesoro mío, mi amor, mi vida, mi alma. — how beautiful it is to be loved in Spanish. so much color. so much taste. this is where I learned to love with abandon. when my lover called me his heart, his pretty sky, his treasure, his love, his life, his soul — has anyone ever spoken to you this way? covered you with kisses naming you every precious thing they know? have they filled you with so much dulce you thought you would burst? — mi vida. mi alma. oh, to love so much you become the soul, skies, treasure, corazón.
Mangos
it’s too hot for clothes
we laugh, in our underwear
I slice two mangos for us
you stretch your legs out on the couch
baby
, I say, handing you a fruit
you make room for me beside you
we spend the afternoon there
mouths
hands
sticky
sweet
Good Love
what about the happy love? all that good love that tells you it’s okay to stay in the house and watch Martin reruns and you’re not wondering where anyone else is because all you ever wanted is there in that room on that couch with you. what about the times you felt so much you snuck into the kitchen to cry a little because everything felt so good and you didn’t know it was possible? you didn’t know you could love like that. love someone the way your Mami loves. love someone and have them love you right back. like that. like someone snapped their fingers and gave you all the gold in the world. like you’ve always been deserving of it and more. like you hadn’t been begging for scraps before. like you don’t know how to be loved any other way than this good way now. this love that’s got you glowing. this new name that you say over and over. that’s got you running around smiling at strangers. looking at the world like it’s an answer. like the days are all working away at something. getting you somewhere. someone. your lover. write  about that. forget the after. the part where it ends. or when it got quiet. that doesn’t matter right now. right here. what about the happy love? it happened every time. every new love. remember? remember?
Section 3: THE BRUISING
tell me you’ll stay
and I’ll stop pretending to leave
With And Without You
you love someone for a long time
so long you don’t remember not loving them
so long the years accordion into each other
and within the folds, all the times you didn’t get it right
so you let them go
they come back
(or you call them back)
you swear it’ll be different
but it isn’t
you still love them
each failure hurts
you think, maybe you can be friends
but that too is a sharp pain
you don’t want them in your life
you don’t want to live without them
another year goes by this way
turning hope into your only bread and water
maybe you’ll figure it out
maybe someone new
will make you both
forget
maybe the world will end
and set you free
Familiar
come here
you call from the living room
I pull the chicken out of the oven
rip off a piece of its golden skin
walk barefoot across the tile, then carpet
baby, taste this
I hold it to your lips you
eat from my hands
pull me onto the couch
let’s watch a movie
you click through the channels
land on Ace Ventura. I cringe
I hate Ace Ventura
I get up, serve us dinner
you eat yours on the couch
laughing loudly, smacking your lips
I have mine alone in the darkened dining room the kitchen light casting shadows over my plate
baby, bring me more lemonade please
and finally, I am my mother’s daughter
Molcajete
boil the tomatillos
boil the chiles
place them in the molcajete
with peeled garlic cloves
take the stone in your right hand
press it into the green
feel the tomatoes turn themselves inside out the seeds of the chiles crawl out of their skin the garlic become dozens of scattered teeth
lean in to the molcajete
as if waiting for a kiss
turn your hand as you grind the stone against stone
again, again, again
my mother would make the salsa verde for my father. serve it to him during dinner. as if to say
here, this is what my heart looks like
. he would spoon it into his tortilla. a taco full of her. eyes watering between bites.
when you loved me I didn’t know if I was the stone or the hand
the tomatillos or the garlic
you were definitely the chile
you were the bite and the fire
you were the tears and tortilla
I sat my heart before you. watched you eat. waited for you to tell me it tasted like home. you didn’t.
Sacramento Airport
my driver picks me up at the Sacramento airport and we head into Davis. he tells me it’s been raining for days. he points out the rice fields flooded with water. I am in the backseat with hardly any words. I think of all that water, how easily it can swell and swallow me. I wonder if it’s something I want. to be wiped clean. I’m thinking of you again. your name exhausts me. I wonder if it stopped being love and became a hunger. the driver asks if I am married and I say yes. I like making new lives for myself with strangers. today I am married to you and we don’t want children. I travel too much and you’re getting your degree. I imagine you in a small home somewhere in Orange County, waiting for me. it’s almost believable.
we pull up to my hotel. I am me again. consumed by belonging to you. what an illness.
The Hennessy Calls Him
what are we?
do you still love me?
have you moved on?
what are we?
why can’t I forget you?
why can’t I forget?
do you still love me?
what are we doing?
what are we?
how do I stop being a question?
how do I become myself again?
A Seed, Your Name
I ate a mango in bed tonight
it is not mango season
but there it was
sitting in the produce section
slowly ripening
asking me a question
I’ve been asking myself
all week
is this really what I want
even if I know it doesn’t want me
I carried that mango home
in my purse
like a second heart
I was ready to give away to you
but you never called
and Friday nights
inch away
when phones don’t ring
I sliced the fruit
and ate it slowly
its juice snaking down
my wrist
this is how I eat my heart out
my fingers
sweet, sticky
the seed in my mouth
its coarse hairs
there’s nothing left
I do not stop
wanting more
I do not know how
A Name That Isn’t Mine
I know there is someone else
I would reproach
there isn’t
you would swear
but sometimes, late at night when I would wait for you, she’d climb into my bones. I could feel her stillness in my stomach. could taste her voice in my mouth. I tried finding her on Facebook or Instagram. anything to give her name a face. I wanted to know who was haunting me. I wondered if I haunted her too. any woman you mentioned became her. I began thinking of her more often than I thought of you. she was a fever I couldn’t shake. until you’d come by and talk her out of my skin. promised it was only me. I believed you. I chose to.
until tonight
when you said her name casually
when you thought I wasn’t listening
and my bones
again
became hers
Rotting
I imagine you in her home. both of you at the dinner table. studying. your legs close enough to touch. you, so familiar to her. I imagine you sleeping beside her. her breath a delicate hum over your skin. she’s a friend. you insist. what am I. we change the subject. her name glows in the distance. I wonder how many other names I’ve yet to see. how many more will come to find me. I don’t ask. I don’t go looking for what I don’t want to find.
Traditions
she told me
that a couple of weeks
before he died
he managed to walk
to her side of the bed
held her face
with his trembling fingers
and asked
we are happy, aren’t we?
I thought of you then,
of the night
you pressed yourself into me
all frightened eyes and lips
asked if I had forgiven you
and I wanted to tell you
the everything of everything then
but instead,
like my mother to my father,
I nodded a tearful yes
Sacraments
I grew up Catholic
telling a man all my sins
waiting for forgiveness
and communion:
a man’s flesh
again
it is no different
than the nights
I lay in your bed
confessing that
I can’t forget
what I swore I would
you, sin and savior
my penance
God’s name on my lips
as you make
a tabernacle
of me
Amherst
I am in a hotel room on the other side of the country. I am laying in a bed where you and I have never touched. the fireplace is beautiful. I ordered room service for breakfast. the pancakes came with maple syrup. I thought of you then. beneath this Massachusetts sky. the cold breathing against the windows. I remembered the only morning I spent in your home. sitting at your kitchen table, sharing a stack of day-old pancakes you found in the fridge. I kissed you goodbye hours later and still tasted the syrup. here, in the present, I eat my meal alone. there is a flight waiting to carry me home. I hadn’t thought of you the entire trip. until now. another city in which I have missed you. that makes twelve of them this year. as if I carry you in my luggage. unfolding you into every new bed. wearing you on my long trip back to a place where we both live and I still miss you.
How My First Tongue
Keeps You
there is a word in Spanish
that does not exist in English:
empalagar
to eat so much of something
you can’t stand another bite
this is you and I
I am so sick
with the taste of you
I can’t remember
savoring anyone else
Section 4: THE ACHE
A Plot Twist
maybe I’ve been telling the story wrong
maybe you loved me so much
it feels like you didn’t love me at all
Explanation
what happened?
the question
I’ve been spooning
into myself for weeks
there was the beginning,
your name a ripening fruit in my chest
the long hours of laughter and conversation how easy it was to surrender
how quickly I turned you into my home
then came the conflict,
my fear, my lies
your drinking, your reproaches
my stubborn heart, yours,
the arguments
the nights
we didn’t know
if we were
staying or leaving
all the men I tried to forget you with
how I’d return to my bed
angry that they weren’t you
take me back, please
and you,
a sober man now
too sane to indulge
my drunken heart
couldn’t
wouldn’t
anymore
Last Straw
I can wait for you to:
finish school / take care of your health / focus on your promotion / work on your sobriety / heal
I can’t wait for you to:
decide I am worth loving
What You Taught Me
before you
I did not know that love could be
the knife, the hand, the wound,
the kiss that convinces you
there is no blood left to lose
Hangover
thirteen weeks since you loved me last / got one picture of us in my phone / remember? / I do / I don’t forget / don’t try to / I drink and I leave your name on the rim of my glass / a deep red stain / I miss your voice / its rasp / it was mine once / I thought / you don’t drink / anymore / sober boy / you stopped asking for a son / when you gave up alcohol / I knew why / did I tell you the story of when my father gave up drinking? / the year I turned eleven / I’d spent all summer in Gainesville, Georgia / when I returned he was hardly home / AA meetings and soccer games / kept him busy and clean / I missed him / I asked God for things to change / stayed up all night waiting
for him / soon he was around more / so was the bottle / so was his anger / I asked for that / I made it happen / I understand why you’re gone / I am not always a safe place / the daughter of an addict / my love must taste like a hangover / of course you’ve stayed away / I wear enabler and lover in the same skin / thirteen weeks / every Friday night / this party girl whispers your name into her sheets / I am a cup you can no longer drink from / I understand / I wish I didn’t
Nopales
my mother grows cactus in our garden. my father cut the leaves from their homes. spent the afternoon slicing the thorns off their bodies. leaving them smooth. new. sometimes I would forget and sit at the table where he’d been working. a thorn would end up on my finger or my foot. Mami said that if left untouched, a thorn will eventually make its way into your heart and kill you. I believed her. I’d spend hours in the bathroom with a tweezer. searching for the needle. I could feel it. it was there. inching its way up my arm or leg.
this is you, isn’t it?
years later
and I am not dead
I am hunched with a pen
searching for you
hoping to write you out
before you claim the last parts of me
Hair
you’d complain
about my hair
how you always
found it in your sheets
after I’d gone home
I joked, back then,
that I was claiming
my territory
I wonder now
if anyone had ever found a curl
and been too afraid of the truth
to ask who it belonged to
like the day I was cooking dinner
and spotted a hair tie that wasn’t mine
on your kitchen counter
all night, it was the loudest thing
in the apartment
a voice I wished I had never heard
Haunted
when someone you love
starts loving someone new
and that someone new
loves them back
you watch from a distance
hoping to see some of you
in their love
is this what it is to become a ghost?
is this how you haunt?
how you flicker the lights?
how you creak the floors?
how you wait for a body that is no longer yours?
Neon Nails
I keep these nails sharp
sometimes
when I’m making love
with someone new
I dig into their skin
just to see them flinch
the other day,
I heard you gave your new girl
my old pet name
I laughed
got my nails done again
searched for a new canvas
to claw them into
How To Miss What Doesn’t
Want To Be Missed
eat your fingers
one by one
the skin, the nerves,
the muscle,
the bones
you will be left
with hands
that can no longer
curl
into a question
that can no longer
ask
why not me?
After The Skin Infection,
After The Hospital
the sick leg isn’t a leg. it is you.
I am not myself. I am four years of waiting.
the illness turns the leg
into a feverish limb
it is the universe or god or
my own anatomy
begging me to leave you behind.
I wait. I am four years of waiting.
I am home now and my leg is my leg again.
all scarred, bandaged, full of pus. I can hardly walk.
you never called.
Loophole
there is a trick I learned long ago:
love a man that won’t love you back
and you’ll always be free
what is freedom but the absence of everything?
everything including you
Clean and Fed
I thought that if I cleaned enough of your apartment, I’d scrub the other women out. isn’t that how it is done? keep you clean, fed and you won’t wander? I must have read my manual wrong because I began wanting things and your apartment wasn’t big enough for all my want. I first noticed the hunger growing behind my eyes. then it took root beneath my tongue. then every time I touched you it got in the way. one morning, I woke and it was all that I was. I couldn’t keep loving you. not like that. not in parts. not in shifts. not in favors. not as a reward. so I left. how beautiful that’s been. how rested my hands have become. how free I am now that I’ve stopped working for your love.
Terrible
the last fight came after I was hospitalized
you talked and talked and talked and talked and talked and talked and talked about how awful I am / how I did you wrong / how I slept with other men / how I didn’t lend you money / how I lied / how you hate me / how selfish I am / how now I want to be who I never was / how I don’t love you / how I don’t know what love is / how I give everyone what I am supposed to keep for you / how I am terrible / how I don’t know how hard it’s been dealing with me / this monster / this headache / this bitch that is incapable of loving you how you want to be loved
I listened. I sobbed.
I was a river again
through the dark the last words found me
five small snakes slowly
winding themselves into my mouth:
get out of my life.
Los Corvos
we keep a machete in our home
Mami uses it to cut the weeds
on Saturday afternoons
you’ll find her in our garden
on her hands and knees
swinging away
Mamita, mami’s mami,
used to grab her own machete
back in El Salvador
and head down to the river
she’d cut away at tree branches
and overgrown bamboo
her tiny frame in the distance
her right arm extended
the blade catching the sunlight
I come from women
who fend for themselves
the blade is our friend
and you?
you are a weed
I know how to slice you out of me
The Burning
I remember the third night we spent together
I was on my knees with a mouthful of you
when you asked,
if I would be willing to do  this for other men
if I would let you charge them for my pretty little mouth
I did not say a word
I did not pull you out of me
I closed my eyes
I held my breath
I swallowed you when you came
we never spoke of it again
the fifth night
you asked if you could
put on some porn
while we made love
I said I didn’t mind
but I watched your face
as you stared at the screen
you never looked at me that way
you didn’t look at me at all
I began numbering the times you called me beautiful
I hardly had anything to count
on the eleventh night
you asked if I could come keep your loneliness at bay
we sat on opposite ends of your couch
we didn’t speak for hours
I leaned over and ran my finger down your shoulder
you shrugged me off while texting someone else
I got up, walked to the bathroom, closed the door
ran the water while I sobbed
when I returned,
you mentioned you needed money
I offered to give you anything you’d like
just to turn you human again
you kissed me
softly
slowly
and I held my breath
for days
then came the flood
the part where I forgot I do not know how to swim
how to dive into a man and come back up for air
the nights
I sawed off my hands
and left them on your lap
the nights
I unhinged my jaw
swallowed my feet
turned myself inside out
the nights
you called me lazy,
whispered
clingy
I forgave it all
because you were beautiful on the good days because you kissed me and
I became steam seeping through the floorboards because in the dark
I own you now.
you are mine.
sounds a lot like
I love you
I made up excuses to stay
refused to give you up
I knew I wasn’t supposed to be
anything but grateful
it was our agreement
when I tried to buy your love
with my wallet and my mouth
but when I’d had enough
threatened to leave
you said I had become too complicated
I had stopped being fun
that someone would be happy to take my place
that you had been nothing but a perfect gentleman
and if I needed to write a poem to get over it , I could
and that’s when
I understood
why some women
light shit on fire
it isn’t about
getting you to come back
it is realizing that
who I was when I let you stay
needed to be burned to the ground
like that third night we spent together
when I was on my knees
with a mouthful of you
I should have bit down
I should have turned
this pretty little mouth
into a blowtorch
I should have
left you in a pile of ash
a reminder
of who I can become
if I don’t leave
when I see smoke
disguised
as a
man
Section 5: THE RETURN
Corazón Heals Herself
and so, you loved him
for a long, long time
so long
you thought you couldn’t stop
and he didn’t love you back
didn’t beg you to stay
kept on living without you
you are still alive
still laugh with your own mouth
still point at the moon with the same finger
you loved him
because you’re so good at loving
so good at asking
what can I give you? what do you need?
remember the time you thought you were dying and you asked yourself to stay? remember when you hated your own body and asked yourself to stop? remember when you held your dead father’s hand and refused to call him gone? remember the time a man sunk his teeth into your breasts and you managed to run? remember the times you walked away from hurt? the times you said
no
? said
me first?
called yourself beautiful and believed it. called yourself home and became it. turned yourself into a song. full volume. your sweet face leaned into a mirror. your full lips painted red. your dark curls, a halo. your skin, spun gold. you, your greatest love. the salve for all wounds.
yes, he didn’t love you
you are still alive
still pointing at the moon
with all of your fingers
extended
towards
your reflection
Bruja
I used to think
of myself as lonely,
as a hungry bruja
howling at the moon
for a body to hold
but ever since the last man left
– The one who called
himself animal
and I didn’t correct
I’ve been casting spells
for new things:
poems
good hair days
a pot of coffee
a delicious book to read
something new to laugh at
a stage for my witchcraft
full moons to land on my empty bed
a howl, so clear, that
I become enough body to hold
for my restless arms
When You Both Love Men
That Don’t Deserve Your
Love
for Angela
she lets out a long sigh
both hands on the steering wheel
the highway winds
before us
we’ve both just finished
saying the names of men
that take up too
much space
in the car
we turn the radio up high
our song is on
we sing it loud
ain’t no room
for heartache
now
in the rearview mirror
we catch a glimpse
of what could have been
but, thank god,
isn’t
Celebration
tonight, I’m gonna dance like the sky ain’t falling
like my bones don’t rattle for someone else
like I don’t gotta peel myself out of bed
like it didn’t take two hours of holding my own hand
just to walk out the door
tonight
I’ll dance
I’ll be alive
and ain’t that worth the party?
Fly Girl
I was 22 and a hot air balloon
never really here
just over – there
I watched women who danced
and said
that isn’t me
I
can’t
move
I was 24 and mirror in a closet
somewhere to look
then leave
I let my eyes eat
music videos
and said never
me
I was 30 and awake
four shots of Patrón
the DJ played my favorite song
and I was the dance floor
I was the bodies and bass
I was the strobe lights
look at how I laughed
this was me
free
my hair frizzed with sweat
glasses fogged
my hips gyrating like
I didn’t teach them
33 and I am a party girl
and why not?
everything else
is a cage
this body is fly
when it touches ground
watch
Gorda
you take the word. the one that sliced through you like a knife through pan fresco. the one your Tío called you de cariño. the one the boys in school hissed as you walked by. you take the word and write it down. one time. two times. say it in English. Fat. it hurts that way too. maybe even more. the word now is a blade. two sides. you write it down. hundreds of times. you start saying it to describe yourself. you don’t flinch. others do. they fear it more than they do Bitch or Whore. the word gives you power. you date a few men. they won’t say the word. they prefer
thick
or
curvy
or
big
. you say you want to hear it. like
you hear your name. some can’t say it without laughing. embarrassed. like you just flashed a nipple in public. they call you brave. you say it’s just the parts of you that you can touch. like short. like glasses. like curly. like brown. the word is home. you write it down. you write it down. you write it down. you are a bruja when you write it down. look at that magic, Gorda. mira que bella. Gorda. your body answers:
hello. I’m here. thank you.
Wild
the boys always find you
grind their pelvises against you for a handful of songs
their mouths search for your mouth in the dark
your lipstick smears across their smile
you leave together
and both your bodies end up naked on some bed
you write  about these conquests
the power to live like a man
to spit on the same floor you stand on
to scratch any itch you have
your family is scandalized by you
thirty-three and single
no children
no house to cook and clean in
no one to serve after your mother dies
all you have is the years
that are piling around you like dust
soon your heart
will be the last one at the station
aren’t you scared the train is gonna leave you?
your uncle asks
ay Tío, that train came and went and I jumped off!
you both laugh at the wild woman you’ve become
On Laughter
sometimes I laugh so hard the world spins. I laugh with all of my body. the arms. the toes. the back of knees. the place where elbows fold. the lumpy shoulders. the belly like a sack of crumpled clothes. the tonsils. the hip bone. it all explodes all at once. I can’t breathe then. (the lungs are busy laughing too). my eyes spill a few drops of sky and I shake and shake and shake. I like myself best when I am laughing. bursting. all of me. the best of me.
Sisterhood
homegirl on the bus asks
if I have a bobby pin
I pull one out from between my curls
hand it to her
she in turn,
parts her hair
slicks back a strand
pins it down
we nod
and continue
making our way
through Los Angeles
late at night
The House on Parkman
Avenue
my five-month-old nephew laughs. a brand-new baby laugh. his little face full of joy. my niece climbs onto my lap. she talks a mile a minute. a story about an invented bunny we’ve named Fluffy. in the next room Mami is
on the phone with my Tío who lives back home. she’s shouting. it’s her long distance voice. my youngest sister chuckles at her computer. my other sister, the mother, is in the kitchen. the babies, their toys, bottles and I crowd the couch. in two days I fly out to another city, I tell this to my niece.
What are you gonna do there?
she asks.
I’m gonna tell them stories about us and how much I love you
, I kiss into her dark hair. she nods. the baby laughs again.
Mami
Cosas que de niña mi Mami me enseñó:
el corazón se estira millas y millas
el amor vive en dos países al mismo tiempo el cariño nunca olvida
la comida es como uno viaja más rápido una canción es eterna
la muerte no nos quita lo nuestro
mi familia es Dios vivo
y mi madre
es toda la salvación que necesito

Should Video Gamers Be Prosecuted for Stealing Virtual Objects?
Alex Weiss (b.1990) was a student at Arizona State University. He has worked as a content manager. In the future, people can find damages of video gaming and explore “how emerging technologies will change the way we live” (785). I know that the author’s aim conversation was a gamer. This article would appeal to other gamers, but he describes MMOs’ relevant details as anyone unknown to gaming.
In my opinion, the author’s article shows to be an argumentative theme. Alex Weiss uses
his personal experience and ideas to display the reasoning behind why he is against the court’s decision. The title of the article is a question, but his theory becomes quite evident during the essay. The author does not believe that gamers should be prosecuted for virtual stealing.
Alex Weiss posted an intriguing article that caused outrage and shock among the virtual
community – a teenager’s conviction as guilty for stealing a virtual item by the Dutch Supreme Court. The defendants stole two virtual items while playing RuneScape, a free massively multiplayer online video gamer, “stealing something that doesn’t exist” (785).
He goes on to reveal his disappointing adolescent years as an MMO thief. The conviction
of a teenager as guilty for stealing a virtual item in a videogame is absurd. The author, also as a gamer, reasoned that the real world’s rules do not apply to the virtual world. According to the author, “The developers of RuneScape, however, didn’t explicitly state that the thief could not do what he did, nor did they refund the victim his item.” Weiss said that “videogames are not working or investments for which people should be compensated; they are escapism.” To demonstrate his point, he shared his experience with Eve Online. In this similar online game, players can steal and destroy other players’ valuable resources, which sometimes result from years of building and labor and often achieved by buying in-game credits through real-world money. He argues that this situation is like the game in question, RuneScape, where the game developers do not state such a thief is a violation.
The writer’s article aims to persuade people that bringing real-world law into virtual realms is irrational and dangerous. Weiss presents evidence for his reasoning, and as I have mentioned above, it is his knowledge and expertise as a gamer. Weiss states that videogames do not work as investments (like in the real world) for which people should be compensated; they are escapism. In this similar online game, players can steal and destroy other players’ valuable resources, which are a great deal to its creators, sometimes even spending real world money. He argues that this situation is parallel with that of the game in question, RuneScape, where the game developers did not state that such a thief is a violation.
The strength of the article lies in its use of logic and reasoning. Weiss carefully explained
his point by using an analogy from EVE online. After laying this out, he established this
relationship to RuneScape, the game in question as similar. He falls short of the hard evidence – facts, studies, data, or statistics that will corroborate his claims. It is maybe due in part to the fact that studies on videogames and their virtual financial systems are scarce. One logical fallacy I can point out is that he claims that he could be one of those “pirates” in EVE, as we have no evidence or a way to prove it. However, I get what Weiss wants to get into is to prove that there are many possibilities in that game.
In conclusion, Alex Weiss states his points in the article titled “Should Video Gamers Be
Prosecuted for Stealing Virtual Objects?”. I believe it was a well-written essay with facts and evidence to back up the author’s opinions. I agree that the teenage gamer should never have been prosecuted for something that was not against the game rules.
Work Cited
Weiss, Alex. “Should Gamers Be Prosecuted for Virtual Stealing?” The Norton Field Guide to Writing with Readings and Handbook, Fifth Edition. Edited by Richard Bullock, Maureen Daly Goggin, Francine Weinberg, 2019, pp. 785-787.

In your opinion, what is Alexie’s main message in “Superman and Me”? What is his main purpose for writing? What target audience do you think he had in mind? Explain your answers in detail and provide examples from the text as evidence.
What conventions and/or literary devices do you notice being used in this writing, and why do you think Alexie chose to use them?
What memories do you have of learning to read? How do those memories compare to Alexie’s experiences?
What are your reactions to “The Dreamer”? Be honest and thoughtful; what kind of emotions did it evoke in you?
What are your thoughts about the style of writing, the use of conventions and/or literacy devices, etc.?

What is the dominant impression of his father Brad Manning (author of “Arm Wrestling with My Father”) evokes in the reader? How does this impression change toward the end of the essay? Please use examples from the essay to support your points.

National Service Training Program (NSTP)
QUESTIONS
What kind of leader are you? Choose one characteristic of a good leader from our discussion and explain why you think you are that kind of a leader.
Do you see yourself as a leader in the future? How?
DISCUSSION
Types of Leadership
Here are the following types of leadership that we have to consider if we wish to become effective leaders in the future.
Authoritarian Leadership:
This kind of leadership is leading through fear. It emphasizes the kind of authority a leader has by inculcating fear among his subordinates. This inculcated fear among the members forcibly drives them to act accordingly with their assigned responsibilities. An example of this kind of leadership is Adolf Hitler. He was an authoritarian leader because by using fear and force, he managed and controlled his constituents to follow his orders. As a figure of authority, he made his people follow his dictatorship, even to the point of killing other races. However, for us Filipinos, this kind of leadership seems to be uncalled for and inappropriate in enabling people to act.
Persuasive or Democratic Leadership:
Under this type of leadership, the leader persuades and/ or awakens people’s thoughts to make them act. For example, Jose Rizal used his writings or novels for us Filipinos to think about our independence. To have a persuasive character, you motivate others to act towards the same goal. With this kind of leadership, we can say that the leader has good qualities that drive the people to follow him. We can also say that his goals or objectives are good, and they promote the welfare of the people. Because of that, people tend to follow him to ultimately fight for what is right and what is truly our own.
Free-rein Leadership:
This kind of leadership is employed when members are greatly trusted to be responsible enough to do their tasks individually. As this type of leader, you allow your members to become their own leaders and be responsible for their individual tasks. This kind of leadership is something that you can do only if you know your members and their capabilities. This will lead them to have the confidence to lead. For example, in a given event or activity, you give your members the chance to lead a specific task, and you entrust those people to share their knowledge and manage themselves in doing so. Eventually, they can be tapped to act as the main leader.

Plagiarism Certification Tests for Master’s and Doctoral Students
These tests are intended for master’s and doctoral students.
Read these directions carefully!
The below test includes 10 questions, randomly selected from a large inventory. Most questions will be different each time you take the test.
You must answer at least 9 out of 10 questions correctly to receive your Certificate.
You have 40 minutes to complete each test, and you must answer all 10 questions in order to see your results. If you do not pass this test in 40 minutes, you can begin a new test. Most people complete this test in less than 15 minutes.
You only get 1 attempt to have each particular test evaluated (e.g., if you try using the Back button and change something, you will not get another evaluation for this test).
If the student version contains BOTH word-for-word and paraphrasing plagiarism, you should select word-for-word.
If you need help, see this document which provides criteria for determining plagiarism that are used in this test.
Privacy notice: If you pass a test, unique information displayed on your Certificate is also stored in a secure location.
Item 1
In the case below, the original source material is given along with a sample of student work. Determine the type of plagiarism by clicking the appropriate radio button.
Original Source Material
Student Version
The word “comfortable” is more profound than people usually realize. The mystery of genuine comfort goes beyond the simple idea that the word first seems to mean. Places which are comfortable are comfortable because they have no inner contradictions, because there is no little restlessness disturbing them.
References:
Alexander, C. (1979).
The timeless way of building
(Vol. 1). New York, NY: Oxford University Press USA.
One way to describe a place is “comfortable”. What does this mean? Alexander (1979) states that “Places which are comfortable are comfortable because they have no inner contradictions, because there is no little restlessness disturbing them” (p.32). This statement seems to suggest that comfort is an attribute of the place itself rather than something that depends on the relationship between the place and the person experiencing it.
References:
Alexander, C. (1979).
The timeless way of building
(Vol. 1). New York, NY: Oxford University Press USA.
Which of the following is true for the Student Version above?
Word-for-Word plagiarism
Paraphrasing plagiarism
This is not plagiarism
Hints
Item 2
In the case below, the original source material is given along with a sample of student work. Determine the type of plagiarism by clicking the appropriate radio button.
Original Source Material
Student Version
Instructional designers typically employ models to guide their day-to-day work. Due to the increased practice of the systematic design of instruction in a growing number of settings, available models become more and more proliferated, focusing on particular types and contexts of learning, particular groups of learners or designers, or particular instructional units (either whole curricula or individual modules or lessons). The main goal of any instructional design process is to construct a learning environment in order to provide learners with the conditions that support desired learning processes.
References:
van Merriënboer, J. J. (1997).
Training complex cognitive skills: A four-component instructional design model for technical training
. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Educational Technology Publications.
“The main goal of any instructional design process is to construct a learning environment in order to provide learners with the conditions that support desired learning processes” (van Merriënboer, 1997, p. 2). Process models proliferate because more and more designers generate models that focus on specific contexts, learners, or even units of instruction, according to van Merriënboer (1997).
References:
van Merriënboer, J. J. (1997).
Training complex cognitive skills: A four-component instructional design model for technical training
. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Educational Technology Publications.
Which of the following is true for the Student Version above?
Word-for-Word plagiarism
Paraphrasing plagiarism
This is not plagiarism
Hints
Item 3
In the case below, the original source material is given along with a sample of student work. Determine the type of plagiarism by clicking the appropriate radio button.
Original Source Material
Student Version
Murdoch’s own moral philosophy has a great deal in common with the work of philosophers like Richard Rorty, Stanley Cavell and Martha Nussbaum. She shares with them not only the attempt to work out a chastened, usable, non-metaphysical discourse and vocabulary for a qualified humanist ethics but also their conception of the novel as an embodiment of moral philosophy.
References:
Bényei, T. (2003). Angelic omissions: Iris Murdoch’s angels and ethical criticism.
European Journal of English Studies, 7
(2), 151-163.
Murdoch tried to work out a chastened, usable, non-metaphysical discourse and vocabulary for a qualified humanist ethics. In this regard, it has been suggested that she shared a great deal with other philosophers (e.g., Rorty, Cavell, and Nussbaum) (Bényei, 2003, p. 151).
References:
Bényei, T. (2003). Angelic omissions: Iris Murdoch’s angels and ethical criticism.
European Journal of English Studies, 7
(2), 151-163.
Which of the following is true for the Student Version above?
Word-for-Word plagiarism
Paraphrasing plagiarism
This is not plagiarism
Hints
Item 4
In the case below, the original source material is given along with a sample of student work. Determine the type of plagiarism by clicking the appropriate radio button.
Original Source Material
Student Version
Television and radio editorials–when they rarely occur–are usually bland; typically, they are opposed to sin and for freedom. But too many newspaper editorials are the same, and newspapers do not have a federal license that might be taken away. The unspoken motto that hangs over too many editorial-writing desks is: Don’t offend the advertisers. Don’t offend the public. Don’t be too controversial.
References:
Simon, P. (2003).
Our culture of pandering.
Carbondale, IL: Southern Illinois University Press.
Paul Simon, who shares the same name as a famous singer, served in the United State Senate and was a Professor at Southern Illinois University. He was rarely viewed as a bland or a controversial public figure despite frequent appearances on television and radio and publication of opinion pieces in leading newspapers.
Which of the following is true for the Student Version above?
Word-for-Word plagiarism
Paraphrasing plagiarism
This is not plagiarism
Hints
Item 5
In the case below, the original source material is given along with a sample of student work. Determine the type of plagiarism by clicking the appropriate radio button.
Original Source Material
Student Version
It should be apparent that technology will play a crucial role in the success of the information-age paradigm of education. It will enable a quantum improvement in student learning, and likely at a lower cost per student per year than in the current industrial-age paradigm. Just as the electronic spreadsheet made the accountant’s job quicker, easier, and less expensive, the kind of LMS described here will make the teacher’s job quicker, easier, and less expensive.
References:
Reigeluth, C. M., Watson, W. R., Watson, S. L., Dutta, P., Chen, Z. C., & Powell, N. D. P. (2008). Roles for technology in the information-age paradigm of education: Learning management systems.
Educational Technology, 48
(6), 32-39.
Introducing technology into the workplace does not automatically improve job performance. While managers may dream of lower costs, the introduction of technology may increase costs (especially in the short term) if using/learning the technology makes the individual’s job harder.
Which of the following is true for the Student Version above?
Word-for-Word plagiarism
Paraphrasing plagiarism
This is not plagiarism
Hints
Item 6
In the case below, the original source material is given along with a sample of student work. Determine the type of plagiarism by clicking the appropriate radio button.
Original Source Material
Student Version
You could even skip the debate and simply concentrate on getting letters to candidates. The key is to act. Concentrate on two or three issues at the most. If you write on twelve topics, you dissipate the effect. Keep the letter short, one page if possible, two at the most. Your lawmakers and their staffs are busy and are not likely to do more than glance at a long letter.
References:
Simon, P. (2003).
Our culture of pandering.
Carbondale, IL: Southern Illinois University Press.
Letter