Here's my attention poem. I was sitting outside of Capogiro doing work  
on Friday afternoon and there was a lot going on around me because it  
was nice out. I tried to write down everything I heard for an hour. In  
some parts I try to transcribe the sound (which is difficult) in other  
parts I just describe it. It's interesting how sometimes sounds repeat  
there was a cell phone pinging which acts as a sort of a chorus. I was  
also transcribing bits and pieces of various conversations (two  
exercises in one). It's amazing how many sounds there are at once and  
it's extraordinarily difficult to get them all. I also kept having  
thoughts run through my head and so I included them in [ ] which are  
mostly about how hard it was to get everything down and whether or not  
I should transcribe the sounds or describe them. At any rate, it's a  
long text but a very interesting exercise, also made me realize how  
much I don't pay attention to what's going on around me very  
carefully. It also reminded me a lot of John Cage's 4:33 -- what you  
choose to hear.

***

Why didn’t you play rubgy? Chatter. Cars, laughter.
Literally if someone would push you Beeping. I wouldn’t be able to deal with
that either. Beeping. I feel like one of my friends. She’s amazing. I realized.
Car whizzing by. Growling of engine. Ryan. Are you coming tonight? I saw that
you were trying to sell your tickets. Phone buzzing. Car bass. Song I can’t
really tell what the words are. Angel. It’s not that hard. The problem for me
is our team doesn’t have a lot of experience just a lot of. Basically. Ping
Ping. It was too pretty. Mumbled conversations. Boots on the pavement. I don’t
know if. Shuffling feet. I was walking to class. On 36th street.
[It’s hard to pay attention to everything at once, overwhelmed by noise but
you’d never realize how much until you pay attention]. Clomp clomp. I don’t
know where I’m going. I have stuff to do. It’s really. Clap Clap. Laughter.
Every step. Let’s go. What are you doing? Noise Noise Noise. Truck going over a
manhole, clanking. Screech of a tire. Mumble mumble buzz. Ping Ping. My brother
and sister. Red hair, blue eyes so she gets really burnt. Is that what. Grrrrr,
like a low growl. I tried to gently ask. It’s more because I just want to do
this. One girl’s voice is very distinct but I don’t know what she’s saying. Do
you remember last spring? What do I do with a 20 year old woman? Laughter. I
had so much work to do. Literally, I thought he was a nice guy. [I don’t think
that’s the proper use of literally]. Not only is there. [intersection, life].
[is it possible to hear your own thoughts?] clink. Clink bicycle chain. Ping
Ping. [it’s funny how certain sounds keep repeating themselves, like cell
phones]. Ping Ping. I bet you my sister [I keep hearing fragments]. Atlantic
City. Laughter. Chris! Chris! Thanks man. Oh there he is! Car in idle low
growling, humming. Rolling wheels of a empty trolley. I never knew. Ping Ping.
You’re like a man about town. [Does the sound of my typing (which is often
aggressive) count?] [This is becoming a bit like a free write]. Beep beep beep
beep beep beep beep. Truck in reverse. Beep beeeeep beeep. Fix it! It’s not
broken! I have actually not watched you put your glasses on once. For the first
time Wednesday. [I may be transcribing these things wrong]. Weirdest thing.
More cars, rumbling [I think it’s rumbling]. Screeeeeeeeeeech car coming to a
halt at a red light. [I can’t decide if I should explain the sounds or try to
transcribe them] Cool. Sweet. Thanks. She also sits there. Some cars are
quieter and some are louder. He asked me if I was coming home. Looks. I only
have one real brother. Two of the step-brothers are now no longer step
brothers. That’s what I was saying. Creaking of the door hinge opening.
[Quieter now, less commotion]. Home. Girls. It’s like home. Thud, car door slamming.
Indiscriminate chatter [I can’t make out any one conversation it’s very hard to
record everything at once, I feel like I’ve never really listened before, John
Cage, filling the silence.] Well, she needs to, yeah. Because the worst thing
that would happen. And then it would all just like. They told me and so I paid
them. And. For my birthday. Ping Ping. Rolling wheels. Gasp. Laugh. I’ve only
received a solid three years. Whurr whiz of a car [I really don’t know how to
transcribe sounds, it’s pretty problematic for this exercise, maybe I’m not
creative or imaginative enough for this]. Yeahhhhh well the other thing is. But
it’s over. I hear my keyboard more loudly. She’s like dramatic about it too.
She takes care of it though. She never. Chatter. Not quite a dull roar. Hi, How
are you? She told him right away because she was trying to look at my shoes.
Yeah. You know it’s. No. Shuffling feet [people really should pick up their
feet when they walk, and I do the same thing]. So spaced outl, I’m so spaced
out. I remember. More music, bass of a car. Chairs being pushed back. Coughing.
All my jeans are way too big in the waist. Oh, obviously. You,  optimistic. I’m like totally
confounded. A woman’s body. Are you guys going to stay here for a second? If
anyone walks off with. Thanks. I bet you it’s that. It’s actually. Cement
truck, rolling, screeching. [Is there ever silence? I wonder what this would be
like at night.] Car in idle, grumbling, grumbling. Guh guhh guhh guhh guhh guhh
guhh guhh guhh guhh guhh guhh guhh guhh. Rrrrrrrrrrr. You can wait in harnwell
if you want. He gets blackout drunk. It’s kind of awkward when he ifnores me at
all. Who’d ever try to break up with Cassie? It was so much fun. Somebody asked
me. Did I leave my glove on the counter by chance? People are making. Something
about. Bus releasing fume, pftttt at a stop. Bike wheels have a distinctive
sound. I don’t know how you. Thank you for the info, I was doing my taxe and I
really didn’t want to go outside. I haven’t even given. Stop doing that it’s
weird. What, clicking? No the drinking out of the side of your mouth. Do you
guys understand that at this point. Keyboard loud again. I don’t know what
happened to the bus. They say there’s a lot of uncertainty you never know
what’s going to happen. [Sounds like an aphorism, though no one has said
anything really profound, it’s funny and I feel a bit creepy listening to
peoples’ conversations. People talk about nothing interesting.] Who is that?
Wharton definitely doesn’t teach people how to speak. [Ha!]. Lot of words that
end in why and –ir. I don’t know that it’s necessary in the real world. Ping
Ping. Making weight training gear that our shirts. Fabric, so. The shirt has
these like miscroscopic balls so you can modulate it. [I have no idea what this
guy is talking about] The shirt is heavy. Shirt that weighs 10 pounds. Shoes
shaping your legs while you walk. Do you want to come with us to Sprinkles? I’m
walking in that direction with Anna. Hi. How are you? That way you would still
be moving forward such that. Takes it off. Like literally looks like an Asian
terrorist [that is going to be funny out of context and possibly racist?] In my
real life. I just. It’s important. Beep beep beep. Salad. It’s really hard.
Ping Ping. Hehehehehehe (hearty laugh). Guttural laugh. Quiet, dull whisper. I
think the thing is. You don’t what? Ping Ping [The girl with this phone must be really popular] Ping Ping.
Or just having a really long conversation] Shuffling feet. Clink of a glass.
It’s because we’re old Megan. Bye-Bye! Grumble of a truck/bus/ambulance.
Accelerator. Blue martini very dry. Whurr of bus (it’s louder than that). Ping
Ping. I could see how that could be a concern. I went out for the first months
of school. Dropped fork. From October to but not afraid of something else. My
mom was so I just. Party. Thud. Who feels the need to text you for times, just
like put it all in one. [At least that explains the pinging.] I could see how
after two years. Like every time where it’s like. I’m pretty normal about. Oh. I’m
sitting right there, that’s Stephanie. You don’t realize how much even normal
social activity or how much attention is drawn to you. I’m dating him after
you. Quiet. No cars. Talking. What’s hot in. He got sick. I’ve really thought
about this a lot. Really. Same way I feel about drinking. If you have the right
motivation. Why doesn’t it work? IT’s a complete lifestyle. Also. Laughter.
Keys clinking, keys. Skidding. Skateboard makes a really distinctive sound also
but it’s hard to transcribe. Oh yeah, yeah, yeah. Keys again. Many years out of
nowhere when I was like a tween I guess. Oh wait. Horn. Beep beep. Beep beep
(short and low). You can’t eat anything. There’s cheese. Stains. I’m not sure I
could physically do it. The list of things I could do. You could it’s just do
you want to. [I’m glad I’m constantly typing or I would  actually look like a creep except that
I’m typing without looking so am I giving myself away?] Ping! Horn (beep). But
if you think like the problems is like if you switch. That is our reality. Or
you could always stay and embrace it. Beep. Screeeecb (low and shallow).
Whurrrrr. In two minutes I’m going to talk about leadership then I’m going to
walk over and I’ll be there for. Motorcycles have distinct sounds too that are
hard to replicate. [Wheels and their sounds.] That’s how they get so much. I
did like him. I’m coming back. No no no no no. Bye. No I’m not I’m not I’m not
I’m not I’m not. With his like special highchair. What is it like to feel
unattractive? Community service. And this guy was like short. I’ve been short
all my life. In front of me, he’d make short okes. Girls would continually put
me in the friend zone. Because I’m nice, funny. No man, I went to pick mine up
and they’re like your order didn’t go through, we don’t have them. I’m Zeb,
nice to meet you. Yeah, yeah yeah. I’m going Saturday night. I have two tickets
for tomorrow still. Do you know what show? The afternoon show. Are you afraid
you’d be in. No no no no absolutely not. Laughter. I feel like I’m married so I’m
safe. Do you want to take my chair. We’re about to have a third beer and a
bunch of sorbets. Get involved. Zeb can I take that chair? Zeb is qualified to
replace me. Have fun. Bye. We just met. She’s like the female Irish version of
me [WHAT?] Clinkig. Keys. We have a lot of stuff to do before Monday. Do you
want to do a Sunday session? Just send the four projects. Thematic
conversation. Well, if you want to do it on the bus. If the bus has internet
and you want to do it. Beep beep (horn). Actually. Enjoy Fling. I remember
thinking. How’d that go. We went out it was fun, ti was good. It’s just like
first of all I know his. The guy is too busy for me. Cars. [I’m getting stuck
listening to conversations, does this count as two exercises in one?] And then
he sent me a text and said. Screeech. Bus door opening (also a particular
sound). I’ve read the guy’s entire chart. Screaming out a bus window. Hellow
everyone! Hi!!! (Screaming kids). Hi hi hi. [Those kids are kind of cute.]
Byeeeeee [But could probably get annoying after a while.] I don’t want to ruin
the friendship. [How do you focus on one thing? Cars and/or conversation.] More
cement growling, churning. I do see a little bit for the future. Beepbeepbeep
(fast and loud). But I really want Jimmy John’s. So she’s probably. Telephone
ring. Ring. Ring. Wait, what? Hello. Hey how are you? What’s up? Oh you want
tickets for tomorrow night? Oh for tonight no. But I don’t know of anyone else
who has one for tonight. Give me one second. 

Edited version from raw feed:

Alright,
20 Questions.
GO!

Why is there always doubt in my stomach?

Is google mocking me?

Why do I care about someone
I shouldn’t care about?

  but what about myself? rarely

Is there a connection?

What do we do with it?

If I ask a question about asking a question, does that make
me post-modern?

Why does light improve my mood when outside & upset
me in doors?

Why did he have to say “Dream Weaver”?

Will we keep this up forever?

Is this the 11th question?
Was that rhetorical?

how can I stop myself from fucking
it up again?

I used to be mortally afraid of the
number 13. Is this the 13th question?

I don’t get why hotels skip the
13th floor – if you’re on the 14th
what floor are you really on?

But why would
we want to remain unknown?

I wonder if any one can see the ink
spilling from my belly button?
is it something I keep in my bedroom,
hidden safely under my bed?

Number 18
Does this count as annoying?

wewritelonelinesseparatelyseparatingthemsowecansee
whatthey’dlooklikeasstrangersandareweanymore
alonewhenthereislessspace?

Am I too obsessed with questions?
Well, that’s number 20.

does the choice actually exist?
Question 21. Sorry.

why does everything always fail to
live up to expectations?

I

heard a

Fly buzz – when

I

died – The

Stillness in the

Room

Was like

the Stillness in

the

Air – Between

the Heaves of

Storm –

The Eyes

around – had wrung

them

dry – And

Breaths were gathering

firm

For that

last Onset – when

the

King Be

witnessed – in the

Room –

I willed

my Keepsakes – Signed

away

What portions

of me be

Assignable –

and then

it was There

interposed

a Fly –

With Blue – uncertain

stumbling

Buzz – Between

the light – and

me –

And then

 The windows failed

-and

then I

 could not see

 to see –

(Haynaku)

  I did a Haynaku. I liked the way this one turned out, I think this style lends itself well to Dickinson’s use of the dash. I like the poem with more space. I thought also this was sort of like a creeley thing. Except of course it might read more like

- and
then I
cd nt see (or something)

At any rate, this was my favorite version of the poem because I think something about the way it’s laid out and the use of space is really effective for Dickinson’s writing.

Clairvoyance

I heard a Fly buzz – when I died – The Stillness in the Room Was like the Stillness in the Air – Between the Heaves of Storm – The Eyes around – had wrung them dry –And Breaths were gathering firm For that last Onset – when the King Be witnessed in the Room – I willed my Keepsakes – Signed away What portions of me be Assignable – and then it was There interposed a Fly –  With Blue – uncertain stumbling Buzz –  Between the light – and me –  And then the Windows failed – and then I could not see to see – 

Then, I did a sort of clarivoyance thing. As though I imagined the poem being told in three different voices (as Hannah Weiner might do). I’m not really sure it works with this poem. I think there’s too much of a conscious I and not enough of a different voice - a subconcious? It looks interesting on the page.

Haiku

I heard a Fly buzz –

when I died – The Stillness in

the Room Was like the

Stillness in the Air –

Between the Heaves of Storm – The

Eyes around – had wrung

them dry – And Breaths were

gathering firm For that last

Onset – when the King

Be witnessed – in the

Room – I willed my Keepsakes – Signed

away What portions

of me be Assign

able – and then it was There

interposed a Fly –

With Blue – uncertain

stumbling Buzz – Between the light –

and me – And then the

Windows failed – and then

I could not see to see –

***

Erasure/Essence

Fly buzz – died –

Stillness in the Room

Stillness in the Air –

Storm –

Eyes around – wrung –

Breaths gathering

Onset – King

witnessed – Room –

Keepsakes – Signed

portions

Assignable –

Fly –

Blue – uncertain stumbling Buzz –

light –

Windows failed –

see –

The next one was what I called erasure or alternatively essence where I stripped down the poem to what I considered it’s essential parts - not a lot of extraneous adjectives or articles. I like this one too! I’m also a fan of economy of language. I particularly liked the stanzas “Keepsake - Signed/portions/Assignable - /Fly -” and “Blue - uncertain stumbling Buzz - /light - /windows failed - see - ” I really liked that last stanza. There’s something more vague about this version which is appealing and I think it highlights the critical aspects of the poem (thus, essence). You get a better sense of impending death, like the form sort of is foreshadowing for content.

I Remember

I remember I heard a Fly buzz – when I died –

I remember The Stillness in the Room

I remember like the Stillness in the Air –

I remember Between the Heaves of Storm –

I remember The Eyes around – had wrung them dry –

I remember Breaths were gathering firm

I remember that last Onset – when the King

I remember Be witnessed – in the Room –

I remember I willed my Keepsakes – Signed away

I remember What portions of me be

I remember Assignable – and then it was

I remember There interposed a Fly –

I remember With Blue – uncertain stumbling Buzz –

I remember Between the light – and me –

I remember And then the Windows failed – and then

I remember I could not see to see –

Next, just because, I put it in the form of a “I Remember” poem. I think this sort of goes to sure how the I remember poems can be read without the I Remember and still be interesting. There’s already (as I mentioned) such a self-awareness in the original poem that I think this just further hammered it home, though it felt unnecessary.

Poetry Collage

I was glad the peacocks made awful sounds

Turning and turning in the widening gyre –

I do not think they will sing to me. I saw

the best minds of my generation destroyed

by madness, starving hysterical naked. Give

me your tired, your poor. Beginning, ending,

continuing – as they come, what can things

mean? Eyes I dare not meet in dreams, so

much depends upon whose woods these are

I think I know, To die, to sleep, Space

is nearer (I am large, I contain multitudes)

Only in darkness is thy shadow clear,

What happens to a dream deferred? These

fragments I shore against my ruins –  It’s the

yellow dust inside the tulips, Rose is a

rose is a rose is a rose or the beauty of

innuendos.


Source Texts:
Stephen Dunn – Men Talk
W.B. Yeats – The Second Coming
T.S. Eliot – The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, The Hollow Men, The  
Waste Land
Allen Ginsburg – Howl
Emma Lazarus – The New Colossus
Larry Eigner – areas/lights/heights
WC Wililams – The Red Wheelbarrow
Robert Frost – Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Shakespeare – Hamlet’s soliloquy
Robert Lowell – For the Union Dead
Walt Whitman – Song of Myself
Hart Crane – To Brooklyn Bridge
Langston Hughes – Dream Deferred
James Schuyler – February
Gertrude Stein – Sacred Emily
Wallace Stevens – 13 Ways of Looking at a Blackbird

I liked this exercise a lot it was a fun chance to take my favorite  
lines from some of my favorite poets and put them all together. It's  
funny how one line would sort of lead into another in my head and so I  
feel like it came together much more cohesively than I'd expected.  
it's like a journey through modern poetry in a way...

Next I put "This is Just to Say" by WCW in the generator:

Original Text:
This is Just to Say

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

then:
Thick is Justified to Says (eat word endings)

I havens eats
theater plunk
thawing werther in
thebes icebox

andean whines
youthful werther proxmire
savory
forefinger breezes

Foreigners me
thematic werther deleterious
so sweetening
andromache so collision

Williamsburg Carcasses Willing

then:
This txis Just to Say (push around on the plat but don’t eat)

I HAVE eaten
the plums
that w ere in
the icebox

and wHich
you we. pr.
savinng
for breakfast

Forgiv e me
they were DeLicIoUS
so sweset
and so cold

I like the first distortion best. I don't know why but I think it's  
hilarious that he came up as Williamsburg Carcasses Willing. It's  
actually funny how much more this generator made of the relative  
simple poem. I like the seocnd version too, it reminds me of something  
very post-war. Sort of Creeley-esque in a weird way. I like lines like  
that w ere in her like and wHich you we. pr.. Forgiv e me. I sort of  
see this poem as about language/language usage in an interesting way.


DATA MINING
For this one I turned to facebook. First I wrote three short poems  
based on people's statuses. I like the way it turns out. It's funny  
how there's less variation between people or the way people sort of  
update their statuses based on certain things. There's a consistency  
that's interesting. Maybe it's because they're all college students?  
I'm not sure...

 From Facebook Statuses:

                   Time
moving is a struggle at this point
crazy how times flies so crazy
how the last four years have
passed in the blink of an eye


                Baseball
Being a Red Sox Fan is a real
disorder and should be taken seriously
team name team name
team name team name


             April
potential snowstorm on April 1st? foolery
spring cleaning and budgeting
this is going to be a great week

Then I wrote a longer poem. One of my good friends and I often  
correspond via facebook message with funny stories, anecdotes. She was  
away in France this summer so it was the easiest way to communication  
long distance. Anyway, we have a pretty extensive history of messages  
so I went through them and took out what I thought was funny or  
interesting. I think it's a really accurate description of our  
friendship in some ways and it was a really fun exercise to do. She  
also really enjoyed it when I sent it to her! Probably one of my  
favorite things I've do so far this year:

there comes a time in every girl’s life when she needs a swede
glad you’re enjoying la vie en france ( at least if happy hour is
typical of your life in france). oh good stories. Will tell when back
in room and sober (hopefully not anytime soon). french love
connection? this gem came up today. Third times a charm?
Am I going to hell for this? I need a chaperone when I go
on Facebook. that wouldn’t be awkward at all. Maybe? Kinda?
Not really? No. I like the way you think. Too far, too far. Best
find of the day. Is she quoting what people tell her? You should
warn me before I open this up in public places! But no such luck…
someday…someday. A picture is temporary, a memory lasts forever.
(dream come true). DO NOT OPEN IN PUBLIC. GREAT way
to start my morning. I was so excited when I found that gem.
It’s too much. Which one? All of them. Please read it now.
Saw this earlier and wasn’t paying attention. I love that we’re
smiling. explains everything. I HAVE NO SYMPATHY.
am I a cold-hearted bitch? Like. LIES. Not a night to debrief
over saxbys. Why am I awake so early? WIN. What happened?
Kinda a long story for a msg. but it was a moment. So win + 10?
Also, I attached a pic, naturally, to cover all my bases. (got that,great?)

Okay good session. What the hell does that mean. Are you his therapist?

I just realized this new facbeook let’s you read every message

we’ve ever sent. AMAZING I read it all…should be published/
hope no one ever hacks into my comp. I don’t know it just
showed up. we’ll wait and see. But yes, we’ll see. Good detective work?
So far my theory is sound and explains a lot. It does explain a lot…
I think you’re right. What I said was super inarticulate and that I  
didn’treally have a positive or negative reaction. Yeah I’m kinda ambivalent  
too.Don’t think it hadn’t crossed my mind. I should go then, gotta get in on
the fight. I feel like you’re often in mine…we will figure it out! i’d  
tendto agree. And/or recently. Maybe they’re onto something…she’s the best…
also. the sage thing is phenomenal. How’d you find out? 

This exercise is a bit more familiar for me than some of the others  
have been - mostly because I've read all of the poets suggested  
before. And just as a matter of personal aesthetic preference I tend  
to like these sort of shorter form poems, the simplicity of them and  
the white space.

I remember liking Grenier's sentences best of all his work when I read  
him last year (still not convinced I like his visual poems).
I remember liking Saroyan's sentences better than Grenier's when I  
read them last semester (then, as now "a window to walk away in"  
strikes me as a wonderfully elegant line.
I remember liking Reznikoff's poems alot (and looking back at my post,  
I did) and appreciated how he didn't draw conclusions but just  
observations

anyway, just some things I remember

William Carlos Williams is a personal favorite.
So much depends upon his short lines, his perceptions, the things he  
doesn't say.
Between words/between walls
the broken pieces/of a green bottle.


I've been thinking a lot about short forms poems recently and trying  
to write more of them...
****
after spring (Haynaku)

vivid
colors and
longing after rain

clarity
gray sky,
kelly green overcoat

flowers,
red tree
crisp and unashamed

sounds
definite, distant
feet on a

hollow
stairwell, unsure
of what echoes

and
if you’ll
come back –

nearer
the sidewalk
hum of strangers

puddles
under streetlamps
on the corner

absence
white daisies
on the windowsill.
***
this is a shorter poem I wrote recently, not sure if it counts as a  
short-line, necessarily, but it's pretty sparse:

philadelphia night

open the

window 

	because

		it’s five 

		am 

and snowy

 and

you need to 

			let the 

			traffic in

the moon has

 surrendered
				blue 

					and 

						east 

					and 

				centuries,
the  petal-colored 

sky
full of 

	flurries 

	and 						solitude

winter 

			doesn’t hurt 

	now
		between 

	    black and dawn

				horns,

			         sirens, 

					motorcycles,
a man-hole

 under 

heavy

 tires

		carrying 

			the 

		weight of 

		the city

					eyelids and 

				shoulder blades
					shudder 

	and latch

 the window

the cars don’t 

	seem

				 to mind.

***
I've been working on this poem for a while because I've been trying to  
write a short line poem but I'm not sure I like the spacing of it yet  
(still working on it) and I realize I write about rain and flowers a  
lot lately and that this is sort of similar to my first poem...

the kind of rain
you save for

	summer, not
	cold enough

for a bird-song
streaking
windows
as thunder
melts the
concrete
	
	walls and
	whispers grey

sky, orange
bougainvillea,
both, because
bougainvillea
sounds
nothing
like it looks
how four p.m.
storms
	
	bring pain,
	surely

you said
lightning,
striking
rain-stained
flower pots
on the window

		sill, still

dripping

dripping

PREPOSITIONS & OTHER THINGS

  A                                               

                                                                        b                                                out

A                        c                        r                  o                        s                        s

                                                                        v                                                  i

                                                           b e f or e                                                 d

                                                           e                                                              e

                                                           l

                                                           o

                                                  bet    w   een

Above

     I

    Across

                                   y        o          u

Before he

   we

Below

                         y   be   o  tw  u  een

                                                                                    they      o

                                                                                                u           

                                                                                                t

                                                                                                s

                                                                                                i                         Above

                                                                                                d                            I       

                                                before he or(e)                        e                          nor

you between and                                                                                                             e

                                                                                                                                d

                                                                                                            o                    i

a            c            r            o            s            s            y            o            u            s           o

                                                                                                                 t           

we                                                                                                            h                       

for                                                                                                            e

below                                                                                                     yet

 *****

Alphabet/ Pastoral

a black crow

dawn, early friday

grazing horses in

January – kicking,

lithe mares

nighttime owls

peeping, quietly

robins singing,

too urgently

violets, wet

xyris, yellow

zen

***

 JABBERWOCKY GENERATOR

Everything atir and dist

We welked and mundered

No pull, no gler, no quin

Just drut and pull

Everything chas and decu

I did three of the exercises this week - write a preposition poem, an  
alphabet poem and a jabberwocky poem (using the word generator). The  
preposition poem was by far my favorite. Even though it was subject to  
constraints, I actually felt it was the freest of the poems I wrote  
and I could interpret it in broader ways (as you'll see). It seems  
really conceptual to me and it's very different from the way I  
normally write (or even what we have done for this class). It  
ironically seems to be more open. I enjoyed the alphabet poem but it  
was admittedly hard to find words that fit the x and z once i'd sort  
of decided where the poem was going to go. I guess it didn't have to  
go together in the way I may it which would've freed up a bit and been  
less constrained. Maybe i imposed more constraints by trying to make  
it all go together? The jabberwocky poem was my least favorite. I  
enjoyed seeing the words that came up but didn't like the way the poem  
turned out. It was harder than I thought it'd be to assign 'parts of  
speech' to the different nonsense word. 

I remember the time you came to my room and I was sick and trying to sleep and
I remember but you probably don’t remember that you insisted on  tucking me in.
I remember the last time you came to my room that year and it was empty and
I remember saying I was scared because nothing would be the same anymore.

I remember that time you knocked on my door with an armful of Chinese food and
I remember you asked if you could eat it in my room because it would smell and
I remember it did smell, long afterward but I didn’t mind because
I remember the conversation we had that day and you were so sad and honest.

I remember when I met you on the first day of school when we had the same class and
I remember the times afterward when you’d laugh with your friend and
I remember you sat behind me and I always thought you were laughing at me but
I remember asking you one time and you said that wasn’t true.

I remember another time, in another class when you sat next to me and
I remember I looked and you were drawing, slowly carefully and
I remember that you were trying to imitate Robert Grenier’s work and
I remember it looked pretty good, actually, but I still thought it was funny.

I remember the time we went to that poetry reading of David Antin’s and
I remember we both felt out of place because we weren’t regulars there
I remember making a plan for the next time, how we would dress and act and
I remember most vividly that the plan included sweater vests and scarves.

I remember one time in my room with two other friends, listening to Billy Joel because
I remember that you love classic rock and knew every word to every song
I remember dancing with you and you kept trying to unbutton your shirt (God knows why) and
I remember every time you did, I yelled at you and tried to button it back up.

I remember one summer when you called me at midnight and I was almost asleep and
I remember you told me I needed to be more spontaneous and
I remember thinking about it for a while and deciding you were right and
I remember staying up that night until five am and talking about life.

I remember the time you tried to grow a beard, but couldn’t really and also
I remember the time you told me you were trying to gain weight and
I remember you ate a lot of Slim Fast bars, then, which I thought was ironic and
I remember all that, but you are still hopelessly hairless and skinny.

I remember so many other times and conversations, how we used to be so close and
I remember when you didn’t have a girlfriend and our friendship was stronger and
I remember thinking I was right when I said nothing would be the same anymore.

I guess getting closer to the end of senior year has made me  
reflective so in some ways this was the perfect poem for things I've  
been thinking about. I think it's pretty self explanatory and I tried  
to talk about different instances I remembered. I don't want to say  
too much because I think the work speaks for itself. I found it  
weirdly cathartic to write - as though it was something I've been  
wanting to say to someone and just don't know how (and probably never  
will). 

I.

Spring break is a chauvinist play pen

“I blinked and there were too many people”

The overhead bin is cumbersomething

#travellingproblemsandpuns

                                    II.

snowing, snowing, yawn.

Is there anybody out there? Nod if you can hear me?

@itslily111 nod

                                    III.

Pieces of a wild night scattered on the side of the road.

In the morning: sins beneath virgin feet.

and how much I want to bounce around on them and float

And the crowd went wild

southern hospitality and getting hit with glittery bricks

im still trying to find the rainbow in the gutter here

ago1d11

#happybreak!

IV.

nikkiwrites111:

The inefficiency of human thinking is simply mind boggling

My book keeps telling me “that which you manifest is before you.” I’m trying to figure out the truth

When looking at them from below, it’s hard to believe clouds are real

I have a theory on getting angry about things you can’t control (i.e. traffic)… Don’t.

what’s the price of a good night’s sleep?                                   

V.

too often i mistake tv screens for mirrors

The sensational simile hit her like a metaphor

and don’t even get me started on the infinite failure of language Market Basket: more for your metaphor

VI.

Unimaginable devastation across the world and here the rain is causing unrest

I think for the first time in my life I understand the feeling of irreplaceable

“There’s no such thing as upside down”

VII.

For AL111CE:

laughter is our friendships barometer

my little sister drapes her limbs over mine every night.

I don’t even need a blanket to stay warm

Her hair was smooth and light, it licked the back of her neck as

she swayed to the music

I call it spiritual relationship. not religion.

VIII.      (Traveling)

Idle one-armed bandits and a train ride back to Philadelphia

Every airport smells the same- faux cleanliness too much air conditioning and recently extinguished cigarettes

on a plane to jupiter, be back sometime soon

SimoStolzoff111: “if i could have a super power it would be to not have sand stick to my feet after the beach”

i wish vacations weren’t only survived by sunburns 

                                    IX.

Here comes the sun and I say it’s all right

And on the bright side, the sun is shining.

there goes the sun and i say its all right

because I’ve always had a thing for polarity

                                    X.

Back into the grind of academia

#hanneng111. andrea_eng111.

#ChrlesBernstein

This is going to be a longer post, so I'll do some commentary before  
hand. I'd clicked on the Bernadette Mayer link but it wasn't working  
so I clicked on another which was "writing suggestions" or exercises  
or something along those lines and one of them was a letter you write  
to yourself and I thought that was interesting because I didn't know  
how to start my free write. So I took that suggestion and went from  
there and wrote for 30 minutes without stopping (shorter than  
recommended, but my hand was starting to hurt). I write fast, so I  
still managed to write a lot and it was really interesting to see how  
things were associated in my mind or how I found certain things  
uncanny.  Really enjoyed this exercise. I don't think I need to  
comment too much more because my reactions are included in the  
writing. So, here it goes:
*****
dear aj - is it weird that I'd call you AJ in a letter to yourself or  
should it be Alexandra. at any rate, it doesn't matter much. but what  
I wanted to you was not to worry. that it will all wok out and that  
maybe there was something to that midnight talk with your roommate  
Hannah in the dark and maybe she was right when she said something big  
was going to happen. and fish that are supposed to come tomorrow maybe  
that's when it'll blow up and Allison will have a conniption, which is  
a recent favorite word. I'm stopping too much to think and that's not  
the point but my hand is starting to hurt. I think left-handed people  
are at a disadvantage with notebooks. perhaps I could've typed this.  
but fish. I'm naming mine Larry Eigner because of course I would. no  
one else my roomate just walked in - even knows who that is and it's a  
bit of a shame but actually I need to read more Eigner I've been  
reading a lot of James Schuyler's work lately and writing about it. I  
really love it and now my phone is ringing and can't my roomate LEAVE  
ME ALONE. actually it's just an email from the Boston Graduate School  
of Psychoanalysis and I probably shouldn't have stopped but I'm sort  
of glad I did because that seems funny to me - like my phone knows I'm  
writing a nonsense letter to myself or talking about James Schuyler  
who was schizophrenic (I think?). if nothing else my roomate probably  
thinks I'm crazy writing like a lunatic with my tongue sticking out.  
but anyway, I think the point of this letter was to say it will all be  
ok. That maybe I'll get an email from a real graduate school soon and  
get in. If not, psychoanalysis sounds promising. but I would like to  
continue ENGLISH for now and eventually move to New York - of course,  
I can't tell my parents this because they've always told me I should  
move to NY (and they're from there) so naturally I've always resisted.  
I'm pretty sure that's PSYCH 101. now my roomates phone is buzzing and  
maybe Boston wants her too, and I realized I just misspelled roommate  
wrong twice. and rather unconsciously but maybe, if you psychoanalyzed  
me, you'd say it'd because I don't like repetition, which is the  
opposite of true because I hate change. I'm a very complicated person  
and now I'm starting to feel schizophrenic and it's funny now I feel  
like my thoughts keep going in circles, and I said I hate repetition  
but I am interested in science even though I study English so maybe  
there's something too that. I am glad I haven't had to take a  
political science class for several semesters because there were only  
a few really interesting ones and I wasn't exactly sure sometimes why  
I majored in it anyway. I guess it sounds more practical than English.  
Pause. Phone, again. This time it's from Al Filreis and I'll probably  
get the same email 5 more times because that always happens and I  
don't even know Al and I wish I'd had class with him though I'm fairly  
certain he goes to every Penn basketball game so you'd think I should  
know him by now. At least, I'm sure he'll be there this weekend at the  
two games and and it's ironic, now that I think about it that we are  
playing two New York schools and that's ironic, too, now because of  
Schuyler and THE New York School. is it possible my mind is making  
unconscious connections. I guess there's no way to know for certain  
because then it wouldn't be unconscious. It is now 4:44 and there's   
nice symmetry to that and I've been writing for 14 minutes and my hand  
still hurts. everything hurts actually because I had to lift two days  
in a row. That sounds more cryptic than I'd intended. but to get back  
to the point - I know you're hoping that someone will call tonight and  
I'm embarassed to use a word a word other than someone because  
eventually I'm going to type this up and sent it to the class. he's in  
New York too and that'll probably work out just fine. This is  
embarassing. change subject. watching ice metl is an interesting thing  
- you'd think it'd happen faster or you'd use less paper (that was  
unrelated but felt right). most of the poetry I write comes about like  
that and I don't know what you say my roommate, it's confirmed, thinks  
I'm crazy and just asked why I'm writing so frantically and I tried to  
keep going while answering her question and my phone's ringing again  
honestly, of course it would start ringing now when I don't want it  
too when it's been silent all day otherwise. pause again. no kidding,  
another email from Al (though not the same one) and here we go round  
again in circles. that reminds me of the end of Eliot's poem, Hollow  
Men (my favorite - I once wrote a graduation speech about it) and how  
it ends with a whimper. it was all very apocalyptic and dramatic but I  
guess I really wanted to get out of that school after 14 years.  
there's the number 14 again. funny. this sort of reminds of it's 4:53  
now but not Frank O'Hara the lady whose name I'm forgetting now -  
CLAIRVOYANCE - I just read it but I remember doing my my blog post on  
her last year and I woke up at 3 am and couldn't go back to sleep  
because my dad was about to have huge surgery for melanoma. that's  
quite personal and I feel rather uncomfortable writing about it but I  
remember that post. I didn't like that poet so much, not as much as  
someone like Lyn Hejinian who I read last semester. hard to believe  
that was only last semester, it seems like it was so long ago and  
anyway sometimes all of the poets I've read blend together. except  
Schuyler and Eigner - that's probably why I'm naming my fish after him  
and Schuyler's lines and tulips and the dust inside, February.  
pertinent - now I guess since it's february and almost March. that  
means graduation is closer than I'd like to admit and I still don't  
have my life figured out or not life - but whatever, all of my  
roommates do. three more minutes of this writing exercise then I want  
to try the dream one but I'll probably have to wait until tomorrow.  
though I'm not sure I always dream the last one I remember vividly was  
about throwing books in a river and I already wrote a poem about that.  
my mom thought it was symbolic - maybe in the face of psychoanalysis  
and the future but I wanted to collect the books so they wouldn't be  
ruined and also I would never throw them in in the first place.