24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
I teach writing in many different contexts, and I think making stuff may save us.
Into army work.
boss will send your born body
army task will snag your body
take your body west,
hero
Your role, tiny, will meet
that bomb.
Hold your wing.
Hold that wind.
Wait.
Bear that acid.
When they wire that camp,
bomb time will come.
Lift bomb
lift then drop
fine city rage with fire.
Dial east,
aged city.
From your face, hide.
From your past, dust.
Half of humans dig
Half of humans bury
Thousands of years: dig up
Last year: perish the thought
People have caught feelings
about how people minus souls
should be washed
spread out
scented
I have never had ashes.
I am the half that digs.
The half that bury
wear the sign of
death workers,
death workers have
death
cross the street
The half that dig are up for
smells,
for telling a rock from a tooth,
for finding a wall, or finding no wall
for pockmarking the landscape
we live with
changes
The half that bury do not change
They have a color to wear
They have hands that don’t
notice some hands are dead
They may be diseased
They live with formaldehyde
The diggers look forward,
fling what’s found over shoulder
keep going
The buriers are present
There are always more
There were always some
Things are getting weird over here.
This poem is phrases from letters and cards I’ve received (lines people wrote, not from the card company), and then some responses or comments in parentheses.
even though I try (A for effort?)
of course you are also changing the world (imposter syndrome)
hope it’s a great one! (more like grating)
I cannot say that I am not upset about your not going (yeah well)
I sent you my lunch (which became cold)
I’ve been doing well in PA (Palo Alto? Pennsylvania?)
Actually I’m making you a gift (gold, frankincense?)
invite you to share in the joy (see you when I get back)
At low tide like this how sheer the water is
like a poet hidden
what a million filaments
by shallow rivers to whose falls
set thy own songs, and sing them to thy lute
to fetch new lust and give it to you
all suddenly around his body wound
like to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe
the next, with dirges due, in sad array
when I saw my mother’s head on the cold pillow
oh, write no more the tale of Troy.
Lines randomly selected:
At low tide like this how sheer the water is
set thy own songs, and sing them to thy lute
Like to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe
fame and rumor are but toys
oh, write no more the tale of Troy
by shallow rivers to whose falls
that the uncertain and adulaterate fruit
like a poet hidden
all suddenly about his body wound
Minever Cheevy, child of scorn
to fetch new lust, and give it to you
what a million filaments
when I saw my mother’s head on the cold pillow
the next, with dirges due, in sad array
poets whose lines are used:
William Collins
R.S. Thomas
Sylvia Plath
John Donne
E.A. Robinson
Robert Spenser
Andrew Marvell
Shakespeare
Ben Jonson
Percy Shelley
Elizabeth Bishop
John Dryden
e.e. cummings’ “a clown’s smirk in the skull of a babboon” with words in alphabetical order
a above absurd him abyss—
and aeronaut afternoon aim am an
and any archer as baboon balloon
beats became behold bird birdcage bliss
brighter but by can cease certain clown’s clumsily collar
collects coward cry dear death
did dirt dog doth down
earth eat empty erred every eyes face
fatal fell fire for
firmly fool
for forgotten gird gives glove god’s good green
groove had hands has have heard
Hell her him house humble
i image impression in increase
open into is June
having he kiss knees
lacking lady lease
life liked lips little
living looking love loved
many me meanwhile mirror
miss a month moon my most
no my never not now occurred of
on once one or perfect piece planets prayer
prove remembering resembles rose
shall shape shirt
shot skull slowly
small smallening smirk
so some something soon spoon
spy stalked stars stirred striking sun terrible
than that the thing this through thy tight to trick tune
turd twilight undead
until upon vastly very waiting
which
who whom whose with within without
wonderfully word world whom you
e.e. cumming’s poem “a clown’s smirk in the skull of a babboon,” sent through every language, alphabetically, on google translate (including English) and then back to English
Every day
Both sides
Let’s go
Try fruits
There are people in this world.
Just a moment
Everything is up to date.
Quick answer
I forgot to see the birds
I love you
He was arrested in June.
Star time
Oops now!
Not at all
Activities of Conservatism
(Possible)
They chose the boat
I like blue
I love you
The leader must fight in front of the people.
Don’t forget
New day)
Is that right?
It is very intelligent
Traditional food
Food for the eyes
Click an item
What are you doing?
I love you
Water (see below)
It’s not bad
How!
I do not remember
I love you
original:
To spell, a childhood knowledge token we passed around:
em eye ess ess eye ess ess eye pee pee eye
Pine, I learned.
A drive with a local:
“that one’s black”
“that one’s black”
the houses are white, yellow, brick
Did he like me
sweet tea accent
did he think of me
cult of boys
I scooped a baggie of red dirt
to prove it existed
to someone.
This is text from something I wrote a month or two ago, plus random words selected from Claudia Rankine’s Citizen.
one
eyes vengeance
eggs that never hatch
my house was a spinning wheel, I said
wait, the small ones hide!
as the generation
had one house
here before
one
Page from Theatre Annual, Americans in Transnational Performance
roll dice for first cut, then second, then I cut every other word
and fiction
bodiliy to one
performers such power that
being women to
not medium fluidity
personifications, perspective adoption
their for their presence
was on one authenticity
realness and the dress
to a fundamental bodies
the event and also
critical these of
very powerful statements and to
form, transforming the racial
experience of testimony
these performances validity
experiences motion, so they shared others
and the entanglements
adoption performance
impact their enhanced
and effectively live
both their
in particular themselves
transnational strongly performed
the adoptee
she were
emotions
just why feel
especially their life
don’t
experiences, perceive reflected
performance.
Ice quiver
cure on cure
rice, vino
coin our vice
iron crone
cue over cue
run over run over
cirque curve
vein con
nice cove
ire ounce
corn on corn