Entry 5: Final

This last book I chose solely on the cover. It was pretty, and I liked it. I thought it might be difficult to pick a book that would match this last poem of mine, since it's done from a very specific perspective. I think it matches the cover of the book, in a way; the moment I saw it, I knew I had to put a poem in it. Plus there were three copies of the book there, and that's not allowed. I took one copy away. It's a mystery. I guess there's a connection somewhere between discovery and mystery.
That's so deep. A discovery within itself. Mind. Blown.

Through slatted platforms
coloured pointillism
until the slate shine of water
at the edge of my eyes' reach

like the arms of a mother
nature's monoliths
bracelets of cotton
stout; immovable; ever-shifting

beyond it all
carried on heron's wings
emptiness I cannot comprehend
infinity--yet

not empty space
as my mind would perceive
each dot a home
a different story waiting to be told

There. That's my community project. This last one is kind of cool as well because it's a story. Waiting to be told. Huh-ho!
It'll be interesting to see what happens to these little discoveries. I have the benefit of working at the library too, so I can check on them once and a while, so see how they're incubating.
Speaking of which, here's a mother goose, sitting on some eggs, just outside the library window.

It's been fun. Cheers!

Entry 4

Now this is a crazy strange book.

 I'm...not exactly sure what this book is to be honest. It's mostly about sex. It's crazy. And I don't get it. One of the entries at the back was illustrations of Spock saying super sexual things. Heh?
Anyway, seemed a good book to insert some discovery. Especially since the poem I used was the least cohesive. Seems to fit right in.

Something
That strenuously streaks the heart
on top the early spear
a sail--already spread
clapped out
an early parachute

the strength of the wind's words
fingers lose their gaps
heard through the fabric but not the door
sharks and islands

War is my becoming
alone with singing gates
where I go bereft

As a side note, the novel is broken into sections, each one being a different story or idea. This particular illustration belongs to a story of how the author became a professional pillow fighter, after having wholloped his sister's friend so hard that she broke her face or something. Apparently, he faced some bias under the professional pillow fight league for being male, though there was no specific rule against it. It was a strange story.

further fasting
already I drown
grasping parachutes

Entry 3

My third choice is pretty straight forward. I wrote a Dutch poem, so I wanted to put it in a Dutch book.Wham.

 This book's title translates as "Franklin." Mysterious. I don't have much to say about this one honestly. Mostly, that the reader will have an extra pleasant discovery, as not many people probably speak Dutch in these parts--let alone write poetry.

Umbrella:
Some
Say that a hart is sturdy
because it is a muscle
and like all muscles it
stretches and collapses
just like an umbrella

If the wind grows too strong
the fingers loosen
through the fabric
sharp ends

where is my protection
if there are holes
where do I go
to stay dry

forgive me
if I use
your parachute

Entry 2

Fewf! Getting these pictures set up.

The second book I chose to infiltrate (makes it sound illegal) was this gem.

 Thank you, Bob, for teaching us how to be skinny.
I should mention that I put away this book, which means somebody had signed it out and just returned it. Now, I'm sure the intentions of this book are well, and the contents relevant, but the whole thing just seems...condescending. This probably goes along with the "...for Dummies" idea that went rampant at one point. I dunno. My first impression of this book wasn't a very good one. I just felt...pity for whoever signed out this book. I can just imagine what sort of person might be signing out this book--and why. And it made me sad.
The first thing I did when I opened it up was grab one of my sticky notes and write the last part of the below poem. That is, "I'll still love you no matter what." Because that's a theme that's probably missing from a lot of these self-help books, especially one like this.
It's hard to articulate my exact feelings about it. Too bad I didn't have some sort of--oh wait! I wrote a poem!
 (I'm sorry for the orientation of these pictures. I tried to set it up as neatly as entry 1. But Blogger is a nightmare and hates me and straight-up deletes my photos if I try to reorient them. Sigh.)

 I call this poem "The Skinny Rules"

We throw around adjectives like baseballs

Fat

Fatter

Fattest

3 strikes,
you're out

I'll still love
you
no matter what

I specifically chose the places to put the parts of the poem. I tried to match the subtitles with each section of the poem. Had I spent more time on it, I think I could have found more appropriate subtitles, as it were. Even though it was the inspiration behind the entire poem, I think the last stanza is a bit flat as well. With more time (and had I not been on shift at the time), I may have revised it.
I imagine the poem matches the person signing out this book. I hope they find a bit of warmth in my poem somehow--even if it is admittedly sorrowful, I suppose. I'm sure whatever brought them to sign out Bob's skinny book has something to do with what the poem conveys. And I therefore hope the last bit comforts them.
Or maybe it just brings them down further. Hopefully not. Yipes.

"The Skinny Tools?" Oh, I can't believe this book.

Take a poem, leave a poem.

Final Community Project: Entry 1

So this Blogging program totally sucks. It's really hard to insert pictures that don't make the whole thing crash. Let's give it a try.
Like I explained in a previous post, my community poetry idea was to insert some poems into books at the library. A great deal of why poetry is fun for me is the discovery. Discovering beauty in words, which somebody else has written, or something you observe in everyday language.
So my idea plays of that idea, placing (hopefully) beautiful poems within books which people can discover on their own. I specifically chose books for certain reasons, which I'll explain post by post.
There is zero logic to how this Blogger program handles pictures.
I left my identity anonymous for a few reasons. Mostly, I work there, and I'm not sure what the policy exactly is for doing something like this. Probably nothing, but thought I should just play it safe. Also, I think the idea of conceal the identity of the poems' author adds a little extra to the idea of discovery.

The first book I chose to write was The Secret Signature of Things, by Eve Joseph.
I'm actually pretty fond of this book.

I discovered how to better orient everything on this page. Yay.

Anyway, her first poem in the book, entitled "Crow," inspired me to write my own poem, "Magpie." You can see it on the sticky notes in the picture below. This was a special discovery for me. Mostly because I like crows, but also because the imagery Joseph uses is simple and surprising; effective and lovely. Of all the poems I wrote this semester, I have to say my own version is probably my favorite.

I didn't want to cover up her poem with my own; doing so would have undermined her works. So I stuck it beside it. As an ode, I suppose. I hope the way it's laid out will give its discoverer the idea of "hey, here's a poem I liked, and here's something inspired by it."

Tiny pearl

Over an oily sea
waves of a funeral gown

Singing is not my forte
though I love to jest
and I love to laugh

A thief
a missionary
to steal from one
and give to the other

Also, I stuck this near the back. As you can clearly see, I left the discoverer a chance to leave their own beautiful creation. Ideally, he/she will carry on this little tradition.

Social Poetry Project

I think my blog has less total views than from last week.
How does that even happen?
I work at the library, and I love books. For our final project, which involves some sort of community poetry-ing, I decided to do something in the library.
So my idea is as follows. I'm going to pay attention to what sort of books are popular, or simply one that catches my eye, and insert poems inside of them, written on either sticky notes, or slips of paper. That way, someone will have a beautiful surprise waiting for them as they read about Dick and Jane.
I think it would be cool to have multiple poems in the same book too. Ideally, as they read on, they stumble across more and more poems, but most likely, by the time they come across the second, they'll probably rifle through to find the others. Either way, I think it's a refreshing little experiment.
I also want to target some less exciting books--those that are arguable "least" creative. The irony! They poetry!
That's my first choice, but if that doesn't quite make the cut, I'd also like to just start an impromptu poetry message board, but sticking a large sheet of paper to one of the columns or bookshelves, where people can write their own poetry. Ooo, or better yet, maybe at the end of the inserts in the books (for the first idea), I can leave instructions telling the person to leave their own little poem adventure. Exciting.
Working there, it wouldn't be difficult to check on either project.
Tell me what you think, internet people!

Broktephone

The results of an in-class writing exercise.
Clearly this is the most profound poem I have ever written. 

Broktephone
A stalker phones a prostitute
to exploit a new investment opportunity.

The prostitute is mildly intoxicated
but isn't ready to take the plunge

Send me some beer
says the would-be investor

and I'll give you some crack
when I'm ready to spin

An exhumed secretary walks into the incandescent
I'm looking for someone to cater to my mouth

Do you have a guitar menu
to show my hots?

and management consierge consults a business company

schedule some bees, with these business card

A high school dropout, thinking about collages
sends catalogs to schools

The loot and content of half-breed dogs
helps schools ply wooden shoes

Autobots, roll out.

Evolution

Here's an experiment. Starting with this Dutch poem, which I wrote.
I couldn't figure out how to set up columns, so here's a screenshot instead.

I know, it's hard to see. Click on it for a better image. Sorry Kathleen.
Anyway, I just wanted to see how a poem could progress from another language.
The leftmost poem is it in it's original form, the second is the effective translation, the third is my interpretation of how an English-only speaking person might see it, and the fourth is refining the third into a poem that makes (a bit more) sense.
It was a fun experiment, actually, and I quite enjoyed this. I know at the end of every post I say, "I'd like to try this sometime."
This time, I mean it.
Which isn't to say I didn't mean it with the others. I just forget easily.

Something about a window

So here's the view from my bedroom window.

 
I found Gillian Wigmore's poetry interesting in that it was often based on her surroundings, or places she had once been.
As well, perhaps, as Eve Joseph in her book The Secret Signature of Things.
I tried to take out some of the concrete-esque, authory words in this one. I guess we'll see.

Through my bedroom window

Through slatted platforms
coloured pointillism
until the slate shine of water
at the edge of my eye’s reach

like arms of a mother
nature’s monoliths
bracelets of cotton
stout; immovable; ever-shifting

beyond it all
carried on heron’s wings
emptiness I cannot comprehend
infinity—yet

not empty space
as my mind would perceive
each dot a home
a different story waiting to be told