Sign-Inventory 1, Week 6

Laura Kasischke's "Barney" (Writing Poetry, pp. 182-83):

- I love you. You love me.

He is the true Zero in his cap & bells, in the terrible
lizard of his skin.  I see him

crossing the tundra in snowshoes like a big
hug coming, lost

on Earth
in a body.  Consider: if I become him

what kind of suffering?  This
afflicted creature, dancing

for the hostile, costumed.  Venus

loves him.  He loves me, has given

himself to the whole world without
mortification, given
himself to the landscape

of sap and snow and cloud, come

unto the world
and made it pregnant, singing
to the invisible family before him, swallowing
the sorrow of children--innocent, curious, extinct.
A narrow stream of tears runs right through him.

When the beloved
is in everyone, in the excited
imbecile, the timid
orgy of sleep, who
can help but think of Christ
with his sandals & lambs?  Why

all of us?  Why not just some?  Oh
the emptiness of so much.  The everlastingness.  This
hug.  Quivering, endured.  A purple
balloon like our hearts, naked
and blown up

without flesh, wrinkles, fur.  It loves
without an object of it, and how
we long to keep

the beast of it
stuffed down inside us

along with the little saints & fools
who sing pitiful songs in our chests.

• Line 1:  ampersand in place of "and"; "Zero" capitalized
• Lines 5-6:  first line, two syllables; next line, three syllables before period, followed with two syllables between period and colon
• Lines 1-18 use enjambment; line 19 is the first instance of the contrary
• Line 7:  question can be asked without line 6--it begins with "what" and ends in the same line
• Lines 9-10:  allusion to Venus, Roman goddess of love, beauty, and fertility
• Line 10:  reptition of the word "loves"
• Lines 24-25:  allusion to Christ
• Line 26:  the word "all" is italicized
• Line 36:  ampersand used again to replace "and"
• First four stanzas are two lines each; the following two stanzas are one line each; stanza seven is three lines; the next is one line long; all following stanzas are at least three lines long, except for the final two, which are two lines each (just like the first stanzas of the poem)

Calisthenic 1 and Free Write 1, Week 6

Polished version of today's in-class exercise (I have chosen to combine it with the free write I posted yesterday morning):

"Boca Raton Wasn't Ready, Either"

I.  Aujourd'hui

The birds are never honest--
     hedonists that consume, consume, consume
till they can barely move.
They switch to autopilot (the birds are not fools).
Their engines hum incessantly,
and black exhaust breaks free
from their bony beaks.

II.  Hier

When the birds collide or
     crash into abandoned mountain sides,
barefoot children in New Orleans can feel
the earth's lid vibrate beneath them.
Yet the little ones stand tall, above the world,
holding signs that do not plea for help--
     they scream through deep, black letters
     and white paper-board.  Far too long--
isolated to themselves, with white all around,
white that did not mind the weather,
white that watched the black letters wash away
like ink running down a white page--
a white bystander that cannot stop the destruction
or escape the earth's clutch without effect.

III.  Demain

"Fuck Roosevelt," their grandparents yelled,
after birds mindlessly crashed into an Hawaiian beach.
No one says "fuck Roosevelt" anymore.  Just "fuck."
But never to themselves.
They'll die like hamsters strangled in a fist
before they denounce Roosevelt again.  They swear.

Imitation/Improv 1, Week 6

Excerpt from Gabriel Gudding's "A Defense of Poetry" (Writing Poetry, p.165):

For I have bombed your
cat and stabbed it.  For
I am the ambassador
of this wheelbarrow and
you are the janitor of a
dandelion.  Indeed, you
are a teacher of great
chickens, for you are
from the town of Fat
Blastoroma, O tawdry
realtor.  For I have clap-
ped your dillywong in a
sizeable door.


"Surrealist Manifesto"

Your mind is not a light-
bulb.  It is a fried egg.
It bleeds a yellow sun
and drowns any proof
that objects have bound-
aries.  Your mind is a
fraud--a prisoner who
justifies his thoughts of
crazy with pure insan-
ity.  Your mind is not
a revolution.  Your
mind will not stand.
Your mind is not a rev-
olution.  It is not an
evolution.  Your mind
is not Hitler; it is not
evil.  Evil is a thought.

Responses 1-2, Week 6

On Kyley's "Solitary Shell":

First, let me say that I love your choice.  Kafka is one of my many heroes, though "The Metamorphosis" isn't my particular favorite (I still, nonetheless, love it, of course).

Anyways, I love the line "This human hybrid with more legs than words."  Since I already knew that Kafka was the influence, I can't exactly say how I would respond to this line if I had not known.  However, especially knowing this, I think it brilliantly describes the state of his existence:  it's short, quick, and easy, but it encompasses his very essence.  He is, in fact, a bug ("more legs") with a man's mind ("human hybrid") and no ability to speak ("than words").  Bravo, really, bravo!

I wonder about the first line, though.  Could the poem do without it, or do you feel that it adds something to the overall composition?  For me, personally, I think the line "confined in his bedroom" would be a great opening.  It establishes setting and provides a springboard/catalyst for the lines that follow.

Also, I would seriously consider reworking the lines "...breaking customs, / Going behind enemy lines."  You've packed two cliches into one sentence (though it relies on enjambment).  Reading other pieces of yours, I think you could find a clever way to solve this.  This is, of course, dependent upon whether or not you agree.

I really hope you keep working on this one in particular, though.  I think it has great potential.

On Diamond's "In Picking Up Women":

You have no idea how much I enjoy this.  In particular, I love how you played around with the last word in each line.  For example:  "Chris" (1), "Christmas" (8), "Christians" (16), and "criss-" (23).  ESPECIALLY "criss-" (23).  Do you realize how amazing that is?  I never once considered breaking a word into syllables like that in order to play off another word--in this case, of course, "Chris."

Since this is a calisthenic and not necessarily a complete piece, I am weary to point out the cliche "olive branch" (though, just as you did with "Chris," I love that you used "Olive / Oyl"--so damn original).

For your first sestina, this is pretty damn fantastic.