Lost in (Google) Translation

I've always loved spam bots. Today, our dear @Horse_ebooks, the assumed spam bot, announced that it is indeed not a spam bot, but a real person and that the "spam" on Twitter was performance art, and that it will likely be retired because the performance is over...

For those of you who don't know, Horse_ebooks was a fantastic, mind-numbing, gibberish-laden false spam bot that always posted hilarious, nonsensical posts on the interwebs. It was even made into a comic you can find here: http://horseecomics.tumblr.com and has a ton of fans on Twitter, Reddit and Facebook.

I always assumed Horse_ebooks was a real person who just happened to like gibberish as much as me. It reminded me of a project I started where I would write a fake article using bits of sentences from actual published articles, translate them into any language using Google translate over and over again, going through as many languages as I could stand before finishing by converting it back into English. The end product, as you might expect, is mostly gibberish, but reminds me so much of those poorly translated spam bots you see posting everywhere. I would go to various social media websites and other blogs I was a part of an post them. Most people thought my account had been hacked. I always pretended to be none-the-wiser... Great fun indeed.

I figured I'd postpone my other posts to honor the recently exposed and probably terminated Horse_ebooks. I decided to do the traditional spam post, talking about, of course, what else but, Abercrombie and Fitch (and hating it), as well as other random tidbits, even including pictures chosen at random on Google images using phrases taken from the false-spam. Again, fun.

If you like these, you should try the experiment with poetry. It's pretty hilarious. I did Coleridge's Kubla Khan below, as an example.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Abercrombie Plus Fitch Does Really Extremely! 

In recent posts, one notices Abercrombie plus Fitch was investigates selling of extremely everything for sexy. So, one asks, when does it for what time is mentioned do something of the sort. For each and every one is simply forgoing on what sexual side notes can deem really. Also, knowing how formations of tendencies inside Abercrombie plus Fitch.

One recently posted upon being near Abercrombie plus Fitch:

"Strong. I great feeling great and the stores want to be more diverse with different people of all races are $ $ $ :) flashlights."

And.

"Im more Abercrombie & Fitch, you only pay for the brand. I'm sure you 21 / Charlotte Russe / always find cute clothes on / at least I can express."

Also.

"I regret buying things here because it is just a waste of money. Just a stupid T-shirt that says 25 Abercrombie."

Here we have proof! Now that Abercrombie plus Fitch does really extremely!

The grain displays Conversely, the parties only

Arabic acid and implement Displays, and display or export. By design, we go to the Artisans, the most frequent basic technical Polish, print Corresponding Fatty Arabic.

"...the most frequent basic technical Polish..."

*

Time for the computer data, but a pencil creation.

Depending on the low cost of printing images potsherd the following before he passed to print, poster printing and production supervention not very powerful force with a distance that leaves aviator running expensive print father. 

The poster is printed in the printing ink. Of a hundred copies. On the stone is the color Depending Replaced stone roller, quick Bleeder a 2 cylinder provide many runs.

As a musician, passed, while a combination of nitric acid with a Rolling eight hours primitive: a jar and glue or more very young Apprentices can. A second poster for example, a few hundred father was an appropriate size.

"...a few hudred father was an appropriate size."

*

As the ink, while the evening and it was his principle stand expense of another color, draw a picture nitric acid, then Germany.

In theory, then, and father to use a cylinder to make. Cylinder of the draft in the Workplace stress.
The paper is therefore a book. The end of the pressure cylinder, the right size to dry. Many of the Artisans of bread shows the Lithographic printing Processes a 2 Screens common in the sketch to print cylinder was the first father.

The drawing shows run very sensitive, if not black leaves and stones and increased copies of a poster, the pieces of the fat from junk.

"...black leaves and stones and increased copies of a poster"

*

Finally, the fine Grains and rubber base often given, and vice versa, protection of water to remove. We need people to share four Work groups to print the same size as eighth in the art of wet stone, and big, because the workers.

Father to devote to one side and back of each print was on the paper to dry for Turpentine. And it was standing, we can give as many up and down too much, and the ink from the first cylinder legend was not known at first, and the choice of working with lines of print head on a big spread.

Not in the short run digital print aviator print March inexpensive Accommodation. For the poster, Lithography, Invented in the zinc - cylinder water, stone simple text printing only the parts of their imagination Displays.

The passage of a few Scenes from the rock changes color whole corridor. The workshop was a poster, a Fluorescent, there are some fat to keep the ink to get. Slides relatively quick, one - color, flat on the father as a stone.

"...flat on the father as a stone"

*
At least Bleeder print a second flush, with the first cylinder, dried with a pencil, Lithographic printing hard - pressed in the small model.

"At least bleeder print the second flush..."

In a dream or vision. fragment

Xanadu of Kublai Khan
Stately pleasure dome decree:
ALPHA, the sacred river,
Through the cave houses
Without the sun, the sea.
So twice five miles of fertile land
The walls and towers surrounded by round:
And there is a garden with winding groove lighting,
Many trees bearing fragrant flowers;
Here the old wooded hills,
Sunspots surrounding vegetation.

But, oh! It is a deep romantic chasm tilt
Over the green hills Sidarn cover!
Wild places! Santo and delighted
Under the moon distressed Elgin
A woman cries demon - lover!
This gap is even boiling turbulence
Fast thick pants if this breathing earth
Powerful source of forced time:
Faced with the rapid explosion of media flash
Huge fragments vaulted like hail, recovery
Mixer or the next great scourge pot:
And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It was once a sacred river.
Five miles meandering MAZY
Through wood and sacred river valley
Then caverns measureless,
Fury drowned in a lifeless ocean:
And 'this means tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophecy war!

At the top of the shade fun
Midway floated on the waves;
When they heard mixed
From the fountain and the caves.
This miracle of rare cells,
Sunny pleasure dome of the ice cave!
dulcimer Girl
In the vision I saw him once;
This Abyssinian maid,
In his dulcimer playing,
Abortion Singing Mountain.
You can get my
Her symphony and song,
To the profound joy old "beat me,
This music is loud and long,
I'm in the air, the building, the dome
It is a dome from the sun! These caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there
I have to mourn, beware! Attention!
His eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle around it three times,
Close your eyes, afraid of the test
For him, honey - dew Hey,
Drink milk paradise."

Exercise 13 (Mirror Poems)

Another wonderful exercise plucked from languageisavirus.com's 82 writing experiments by Bernadette Mayer. I've been pretty lazy overall lately, especially when it comes to making decisions, so I left it up to chance again and got:

13. Write a poem that reflects another poem, as in a mirror. 


But what does it mean to write a poem that reflects another poem? I guess that's up for interpretation. You could metaphorically mirror a poem with another, either synonymically or antonymically, which begs the question, is the reflection of a thing merely a different perspective of that thing or is the reflection the thing's antithesis? Hmm? And do you choose to use the same rhyme scheme? One explanation would be to write the poem backwards, readable in a mirror, or to write the poem in reverse order. Or I'll do as many as I can!


-----------------------------------------

Deferred Dream A

Deferred dream a to happens what?

Up dry it does

Sun the in raisin a like?

Sore a like fester or--

Run then and? 

Meat rotten like stink it does?

Over sugar and crust or--

Sweet syrupy a like?

Sags just it maybe

Load heavy a like.

Explode it does or?

*

derrefeD maerD A

?derrefed maerd a ot sneppah tahW  

pu yrd ti seoD

?nus eht ni nisiar a ekil

--eros a ekil retsef rO

?nur neht dnA

?taem nettor ekil knits ti seoD

--revo ragus dna tsurc rO

?teews ypurys a ekil  

sgas tsuj ti ebyaM

.daol yvaeh a ekil

?edolpxe ti seod rO   *
Suspended Aspirations
What about suspended aspirations?   Are they barren, desiccated like desert corpses? Or do they bubble and congeal-- like geyser froth? Are they rank and fetid like toxic waste? Or do they cocoon themselves-- in layers of shells?   Perhaps like ocean depths they coldly crush.  

Or do they backfire?

*

An Atrophied Ambition

What of an atrophied ambition?   Will it shrivel up like a chrysanthemum in the heat? Or will it surface like a zit-- and then retreat? Will it ooze poison like a toad? Or rust like an iron chain-- and corrode?   It could weigh down upon you like a ton.   Shoot you like a gun?   *

Encouraged Indifference
Who cares about encouraged indifference?   Doesn't it sprout wings and fly to the moon? And bear plenty of fruit-- for the world to eat? Doesn't it smell like fresh roses? And peel back in delicious layers-- like a fresh croissant?   It definitely doesn't float about aimlessly.   

Doesn't it reconstruct?

Beau Présent

Rhythm and visual form in poetry have always intrigued me. The first poem I had published was visually and audibly rhythmic. To me (I don't know about anyone else), it read much like improv jazz sounds, clustered at times, elegant here or there, dynamic, powerful.

The first poet I loved was e. e. cummings.  He often broke his words apart and scattered them across the page, or even turned his poems into little puzzles meant to be worked out. I always admired his visual style. And then, years later when I became more serious about writing poetry myself, I discovered a clip on www.ubu.com (an incredible resource, by the way) of e. e. cummings actually reading one of his poems. If you've never heard him read, the experience can be quite shocking! (here it is) I was stunned. He sounds very much like a specter, his emphases very rhythmic and precise but still ephemeral, bewildering, warbling, entrancing, bizarre. That's when I really fell in love with giving readings of my poetry, or writing poems with the idea that I would have to read out loud some day.

Ezra Pound coined the terms melopoeia, phanopoeia and logopoeia to describe three kinds of poems, or at least three elements of poetry, defined thusly:

Melopoeia: when words channel emotions or take on new meanings simply by how they are heard; essentially, the musical elements of a poem.

Phanopoeia: visual imagery, and, I'd argue, the poem as an object on the page; essentially, all visual elements of a poem, poetically or physical.

Logopoeia: the intellect of a poem; essentially, the meaning derived from the sounds, images and structure, concocted in the mind.

(all of this can be found with slightly different definitions from wikipedia here: Logopoeia)

I feel like great poems include all three poetic elements. A poem should be just as interesting to read as to listen to, and indeed should express greater depth when both reading and listening to it, enhancing the logopoeic experience.

Some forms of poetry channel both melopoeia and phanopoeia simply by their style. The OuLiPian constraint Beau Présent is one such form. A beau présent is a poem written only using the letters in the title, usually the recipient's name. I've written a lot of them, and it's probably one of my favorite constraints. I even wrote one to be read at a friend's wedding ceremony. The first poem used only the letters in his name, the second used only letter from his wife's, and the third poem used letters from both their names.

This poem took a long time to write, as any beau présent does, but the outcome is pretty awesome. It's also a sound poem, (a poem without much logopoeic meaning) the chosen title word being onomatopoeic (KABOOM!).

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Mo + O + Ba + K → KABOOM!

  a mob mob a momma,

a mom bomb a mamba,

a ma'am

                bam

      a bam

                     -boo.

a baboo abba amok!?

a boob?

                      KABOOM!

a boob!

                      KABOOM!

a kaka ook,        a babka kook; 

        a kobo bo-bo...

                  a ba baa a BB

bomb a mama kob,

kabob Bob,

boo     a Kokomo      mambo,

                        book a koa boa--

OK???                KA-BOOM!

             KO!

KB?!

             KB, A-OK!

Akko baboo

bomb oak

kaka.

KABOOM?

AMA 

A-bomb a

momma.

                      KABOOM!

Moab

(AKA

Mao) 

ammo.

                                   KABOOM!

Kabaa

abba 

A-bomb

ambo.

                                            KABOOM!

(moo)

Sleep Poems

I gave an example of a sleep poem the other day on Facebook because. I figureI'd keep a running sleep poem and share it on. I feel like it's long enough now to share.

Oh yeah, and I wrote this description while falling asleep too (I'm about to go get some coffee and do some cleaning). The process is simple but you have to be tired (really tired) for it to work...

Step 1: Get tired (easy)
Step 2: Allow yourself to drift (easy)
Step 3: Start writing (easy)
Step 4: Fall asleep while writing (not as easy)

If you wake up, go back to sleep, but keep writing as you drift off. I used to do this inadvertently during boring lecture classes at ULL, with some hilarious results (I'm sure you've done it too). I've gotten to the point now where I can pretty much type while sleeping, and although there were a lot more mistakes than what's listed here, Blogger has autocorrect (which is in itself interesting).

I'd recommend it tonight. I've started a strange sort of dream journal that I only write (type on my phone) while I'm falling asleep. I think I'll also intersperse actual dream entries into the journal for added effect.

---------------------------------------------------------------
Sleepwriting #1

Stoppd the round
After a little bit of time
There could have been a better
batman
Hammer down on my head fists wall
Juggalo
flxonle

Sleepwriting #2

writing while you fall asleep
even the idea of getting caught
thinking deeply
get something new every day
it mskes more sense than the other way
writing a poem like licking a rainbow
thinking about what would happen
getting drunky
your supposed to go the only reason
eating the wrong earth
these french people keep talking
for some reason I keep thinking carrot
then you just keep writing
and see what comes from it
I can't hear a goddamn thing anymore shit
look at that hose alert confounded
fights like monster fish

Sleepwriting #3

drifitng dritf
finally found some
 ,where lights go and stoop at the north
finding diamionds
I can;t stop thinking about jesus
wheres the pink pin cushoon now? muy hands are all blurry I get it
doesn't forget like you try to so I won't
that big man on caampus
after af ew
smels like a cheesex sandwich only fucking pisschreese.
hahass  I'm sdorry I didn't mean to intrude
rememories
lurk cnap in bye I'm almost there
wheats the thing now with you know
sunshine every day everyd ay
but to say hi
i like being told hi all the time its great
you told me that time you got your finger jammed
no faces rven come close
I gave tgen 2 weeks to show up and I noticed
its a beak in her
sarah bootycap listne to the raido
right on no time nothing time nada
he's getting a beating ok sorry can't say who
he needs to leaven here heaven
I love this shit I can do
I don't like microphones either
sombody's getting all wrapped up in doorclothes
urgently take another shot we're fooled again
you didn't get to hear this last time

Exercise 54 (Ways of Making Love)

This exercise comes straight from languageisavirus.com, a great site for writing prompts and exercises. Bernadette Mayer has many wonderful writing experiments, 82 of them listed there. I picked a number at random (using a number generator from random.org) and got 54... excellent!

54. Write the poem: Ways of Making Love. List them. 

Well isn't that exciting! I'l try it!

---------------------------------------------------
Ways of Making Love

  Making love on furniture:
                kiss your neck on the couch,
                      goosebumps
                           behind your ears
                  and in my fingers
                    wrap the wisps of hair
                            tug
                              slide my hand
                           under you
                     lift you up to meet me;
             
              Spread your thighs on the coffee table
                  nibble gently, at first
                    hold an ankle
                        run a hand up to your knee
                            pull you
                       into my mouth;
                 
           Bend you over the computer chair
           the desk
           the stool
           the walls are fine too
                     for pressing against,
           the floor
           the sink
         
Romping naked, outside
       bite each other in the starlight
             dew collecting on our bare skin
         blades of grass, hundreds of fine tongues
                         licking

Grab each other by the waist
      and dive together
           into the warm pool
         collar bones and shoulders
               edging out of the water
                thighs intertwined
                   
                       ~sink~

          shimmering water's surface
               cascading bubbles
             sunbeams lightly spearing our flesh
                 muted by our depth

In the closet, pitch dark
     dungeon dark,
  in the dirt in the cellar
        grab handfulls of earth
      clench teeth
 dissolve in the stark emptiness
     
  I cannot write them all,
      it is not possible
         these will just have to do
           for now
         ways of making love
      I'd like to try all of them
    again and again
         and find myself
             and you

Snowballs

Since I was introduced to e.e. cummings, I've been obsessed with structural procedures, (really though, what high school poet isn't obsessed with e.e. cummings?). I know he didn't necessarily have strict procedures for his writings, but it got me thinking about where words fall on the page, and how. Many of his poems are pleasing to look at, and rhythmically interesting due to word breaks.

Then I was introduced to the OuLiPo, (how many times will I mention the OuLiPo? A LOT) a group whose procedures I've obviously been inspired by, and happened upon such wonderful styles as the acrostic and an even more restrictive snowball...

DEFINITION:

"Another OULIPO exercise uses the "snowball" technique, where the first line is one word long, the second line has two words, and so on. A snowball poem can also be made up of lines comprised of progressively longer words."

Hell, I even combined the acrostic with the snowball (yes I cheated), and did a univocalic snowball as well... Took me 2 days, but it was worth it! I promise I'll catch up to the 10 post mark today. I'll push myself (and do some easier exercises sheesh).

---------------------------------------------

Snowballs

1)

Snowball:

a poem

consisting of words

growing at each interval

until the poem gains momentum

eventually crashing into the reader's lap,

striking them on the face and exploding,

or flying wildly over their heads in sheer defiance

of the excited poet who cannot help but throw it!

2)

A

is

the

word

which

cannot

explain

abstract

materials;

E

is

the

only

vowel

having

vibrant,

powerful

frequency;

I

am

the

poet

stuck

firmly

beneath

limiting

processes;

O,

do

dot

onto

fools

strong

cocoons'

orthodox

clothwork

U

Lo,

Use

Lost

Anima,

Thread

Insipid,

Obdurate

Noisegunk.

Square Stanza

This morning has been difficult; a penetratingly malicious sleep-haze plagues me; coffee stopped working. Maybe Lewis Carroll can help... (snicker-snack)

The square stanza is an interesting limitation. Not only is it gimmicky (which is to say, for me, "fun to look at") but also adds new dimensions to your reading. I could imagine a cube poem--perhaps, a poem consisting of 6 square stanzas sharing borders and viewable as a 3D rendered object--being an awesome and challenging project.

There's also the simpler similar exercise known as a word square, which often has less of a point but is still a fun challenge. I can't personally write many that a 5 or more characters long, so I'll write some 4 letter ones.

Negative feelings, negative square stanza. (A nap will solve my issues I'm sure)

-----------------------------------------------------------
Square Poem

Often   Filled    With      Fear      And      Doubt

Filled    To     Capacity    And      Still    Empty    

With   Capacity   Being    Beyond      My     Abilities    

Fear    And      Beyond      An     Immense   Energy

And     Still      My     Immense  Obstinacy  Resists

Doubt   Empty   Abilities   Energy   Resists   Energy

Word Squares

L        A        V       A

A        N        A       L

V        A        S       T

A        L        T       O    



H        O        L        E

O        B        O        E

L        O        O        K      

E        E        K        S



B        L        E        W

L        I        V        E

E        V        I        L

W        E        L        L

     

Definitional Literature

The varying disciplines of the OuLiPians has always interested me. Some of them scientists and mathematicians, some linguists and writers, they were/are a diverse lot. As such, some of them were more focused on "engineering" writing rather than drawing from inspiration, while others sought merely to expand their ability to write, create new and exciting texts, create potential literature.

There seems to be a struggle between aleatoric and constraint procedures within the OuLiPo. The famed "N + 7" method (link gives you the definition and a handy generator!) is fairly aleatoric, whereas the lipogram (A Void) or things like acrostics, anagrams, etc. are all very restrictive. And yet, often various OuLiPians spoke outwardly against aleatory (source needed). Strangely enough, they consider John Cage one of their favorite "anticipatory plagiarists," a man who's recognized for pioneering aleatoric music.

It is my personal opinion that they were not so staunchly judgmental--they were merely attempting to focus their public image, even if they claimed to disregard public opinion.

The focus on constraint was concisely defined by one of the founding members, Raymond Queneau in this statement regarding OuLiPians: "[OuLiPians are] Rats who build the labyrinth from which they will try to escape."

But what about their aleatoric procedures? Were they merely "fun" and "trivial" exercises or were they taken more seriously than the OuLiPo lets on?

One of my favorite OuLiPian procedures is definitional literature. This process exists outside of the realm of aleatory, but also outside of constraint. Definitional literature is defined thusly:

Definitional literature / littérature définitionelle (Comp.. p 133): each meaningful word in a text is replaced by its dictionary definition / chaque mot principal d’un texte est remplacé par sa définition dans un dictionnaire

See / voir :

Trial Impressions V  in A Mid-Season Sky: Poems 1954-1991  (Carcanet, 1992)

Really, because all your doing is replacing a word with its definition, you have very little control over the outcome of the piece, unless you write your own source text to use, of course. But where's the fun in that? (I actually think using both a poem of your own or another persons poems as source texts are fun...)

What's really awesome is when you take the definitional text and replace all the important words with their definitions again; repeat. I'd call this definitional larding (sorry for the sideways text; someone scanned a book!). Try it. It will in the very least expand your vocabulary.

----------------------------------------------------------
"To be, or not to be, that is the question..."

1) "To have presence in the realm of perceived reality, or to not have presence in the realm of perceived reality, that is the point at issue..."

2) "To experience the state or fact of being present in the domain within which the recognized, discerned, envisioned or understood state of being real occurs, or not to experience the state or fact of being present in the domain within which the recognized, discerned, envisioned or understood state of being real occurs; that is the essential thing that determines the matter at hand..."

"To err is human; to forgive, divine."

1) "To go astray in thought or belief is a characteristic of the nature of people; to pardon an offense or an offender, characterizes God."

2) "To act as to come into a state of being away from that which is right is a feature of the inherent disposition of human beings as distinguished from animals and other beings; to release (a person) from liability of a transgression describes the individual qualities of the one Supreme Being, creator and ruler of the universe."

"A rose is a rose is a rose."

1) "Any of the wild or cultivated, usually prickly-stemmed, pinnate-leaved, showy-flowered shrubs of the genus Rosa is a wild or cultivated, usually prickly-stemmed, pinnate-leaved, showy-flowered shrub of the genus Rosa, is a wild or cultivated, usually prickly-stemmed, pinnate-leaved, showy-flowered shrub of the genus Rosa."

Aleatoric Segments

As much as I love constraint poetry, (poetry that is written using very restrictive devices), I also love aleatoric poetry.

Yesterday, I compiled a poem using broken bits of overheard conversation in chronological order, but didn't touch on the idea behind aleatory at all...

a·le·a·to·ry

ˈālēəˌtôrēˈal-

adjective

1. 1.

   depending on the throw of a die or on chance; random.

I also love using segments of other source writings as my aleatoric text. In the past I've used students' papers at the library. Spitting out rapidly at the printer, I'd only get glimpses of their writing and would jot down as much as I could before I'd forget it, break the line there, and repeat with the next page, creating odd, disparate poems varying in topics, but sometimes combining line to line for some hilarious results.

Now that I don't have access to hundreds of students' papers, I've tried to find ways to recreate the process. Sure, you could open to random pages in books (I'll probably do that later), close your eyes and pick a sentence, but that to me still doesn't feel completely aleatoric because you still have a choice. I guess, thinking about it now, the library paper exercise wasn't truly random either... But, if you rely on a more strict set of rules, you can easily create totally aleatoric work.

This poem was written using the bolded words (and only the bolded ones) in the first lines of the classifieds in the Daily Advertiser. Again, sometimes the implied connections are wonderful. Try this one, it doesn't disappoint. You could even go to a friend's house and take the Xth sentence on the Yth page from each book on their shelf, the principle is the same.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Will Trade

new gutters for like-new rainbow
a used potato chip

why allow the done room special! furnished
never worn; broken
professional alterations

Mardi Gras we buy GOLD!
will tutor your kawaii mahogany console five-piece

pearl drummer needs gig.

touch America black
100 used metal comedy outlaw lyricists
beauty salon and eight foot conveyor
beginners five piece salon equipment, downsizing

executive desks, work
two awesome cooking table saw, works
ten sets of 20 55 gallon metal containers for sale

wanted to buy huge reward! Lost found: blind chihuahua
will trade dirt for pillows of hope

Overheard Conversations

When I was at ULL, I took a fiction writing class because I wanted to take every opportunity to strengthen my craft and share work with peer groups. It ended up not working out, so I dropped it, but, I had a lot of fun right in the beginning.

The first day, the professor gave us an assignment: to sit down in a public place and write down the dialogue we overheard. We needed 3-5 pages. I sat down in Cafe Cottage and wrote for 3 hours. The results were hilarious, of course, and terribly sad.

I learned then that conversations don't usually sound like what you'd think. People tend to speak in segments, and taken out of context, it can seem like pure gibberish.

I've modified the exercise a bit, and have used it often but it never gets old so I figured I'd do it some more. I didn't worry about getting the entire conversation; in fact, the opposite is true: I only wrote down single lines overheard from individual conversations as I walked around the Blue Moon Wednesday night (during the cajun jam).

I plan on extending this writing by continuously adding new phrases overheard and will post a larger version in the future. For now, this short version gets the idea across. Coincidental poetry at it's best.

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Jamtalk

There's no way in hell I can find it
Hey hey hey!
I did wake up at 5 this morning you know
Is that the same bow?
Oh now we're getting fancy
I like it
That's the spirit. I like that spirit. That's the spirit I like.
Sometimes I just lay in bed and watch TV
There's something about it I really like
Have you ever heard of A Tribe Called Quest?
It's quite easy isn't it?
His skin is probably around here somewhere...
Hey I was still sleeping
The blackened catfish... It was...
BLOODY WANKER!
Girl you shake dat booty meat
I was talking to that Mexican girl you know the one drinking those fancy drinks
She can really dance hmm
Did she kick you in the face?
He likes guys with mustaches and beards I don't know why
I am sad but it'll be ok
Two Schlitz and cosmo, two schlitz and a cosmo
That's him. Yeah he's always like that
Got a light, love?
I've never danced that fast
There are two girls over there who don't have aaaaaaaaanyone to dance with hehehe
Look at my face!
Oh shit there goes another one!
Ready to go? Let's go.

Lists

A great man once told me that he wanted to write everything...

"Eviction notices, summons, manuals, instructionals, bumper stickers, pamphlets--I want to write all of these things. With poetry or fiction, the tendency is to attempt perfection and fail, but poets are perfectionists, we want to keep working and reworking, molding, cutting, pasting, sculpting. A poem is never finished. Often you get the idea that someone will see all the imperfections instead of the finished product, but what you have to do is stop thinking that anyone is going to read your work."

I mostly write for myself and other people happen to read it, but when he told me this I had just been published for the first time, and worried about what my "readers" thought, and that started to bother me. It wasn't until much later that I realized the beauty of the statement: I had no readers. If anyone were to read something I'd written, (say the aforementioned poem, "[Absinthe Piss]," published in ULL's journal The Southwestern Review '09), and they didn't like it, they wouldn't sit there and scrutinize it like I imagined they would--they'd merely turn the page and move on. Even if they did scrutinize my writing, tear it down and think negative thoughts about me, how would I ever know? Would it matter at all if I did? Or say they did like it, would they even take the time to look at my name, try to find more of my poetry? It's not likely.

When it comes to writing more mundane things however, your writing gains a certain power, particularly when people are forced to read it! But there are some forms of writing that are so mundane, so underwhelming, most people think reading them is pointless. Someone else's notepad, for example, detailing goals they need to accomplish at work, or what foods they ate at each meal, or grocery lists--most people find this sort of writing dull, non-poetry.

I'd like to argue the opposite. Poetry, like music, is everywhere. Like art, it's often free if you just look for it. What's stopping us from enjoying reading/writing lists?

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A Complete List of Objects On or Around the Desk in the Office at the Blue Moon Guesthouse

heavy-duty scotch tape dispenser

magnetic paper clip jar

salmon pink stapler

2 digital calculators, 1 black, 1 gray

green hand-made ceramic bowl containing: staples, a blue paper clip, a clear thumb tac, and 2 erasers

wireless telephone and base

small brown paper bag containing: 5 large and 3 small brass keys

black printer/copier/scanner/fax machine

large round clock with roman numerals bearing the words: Edinburgh Clock Works Co.

framed black and white photo of 9 women dressed like cow girls, labeled: Cow Girls - Cheyenne Frontier Days - 1929

white 3-ring binder labeled: Blue Moon Saloon - Events

manilla folder labeled: Trek America '13

small brown glass vase labeled: hurricane bubble; containing: large, blue-handled scissors; small, green-handeled scissors; 4 ball-point pens, 1 without cap; black sharpie; big black permanent marker labeled:
King Size; standard #2 pencil; flat yellow highlighter; fake rose.

19 sticky notes varying in color and messages

56 envelopes containing receipts from tabs left open at the end of the night

10 magnetic note clips

wooden mirror

framed cork board with 3 lists of phone numbers

12 push pins, 11 clear, 1 green

mac mini

black computer monitor

black and silver wireless router

cash register

credit card machine

red metal message bin labeled with: emergency contact information; containing: 3 manilla folders, a clip board, 7 sheets of paper, 14 Blue Moon business cards

white coffee mug

pair of silver prescription glasses

blue mechanical pencil

Canadian dollar

post-it note pad

yellow and pink invoices for printer ink

wooden jar containing: $23.77 in spare change; with wooden lid

2013 calendar (turned to August)

paper sign that reads: always always check a/c filters and under beds when cleaning a room! please and than you! xoxo

postcard from Brugge with a personal note

newspaper image featuring a regular guest dancing

Texas driver license

2 pairs of sunglasses, 1 burgundy cat-eyed, 1 transparent pink/yellow wide-eyed

fortune cookie fortune stating: Energy is equal to desire and purpose

picture of 13 people in a boat drinking beer and water

black and white picture of 4 women kickline dancing and wearing gas masks

small wooden shelf

mardi gras mask

Fransaskois flag

Intro/Minute Poems

The Experimentalist's Conundrum

I've always had an internal debate about constraint or process poetry and audience awareness. I struggle with the decision to either tell the reader about the writing process/exercise/constraint or let them appreciate the work for how it reads rather than what it might actually be. 

In Georges Perec's La Disparition, he doesn't have a preface that explains the entire book was written without the letter E, and we can assume this was intentional. Unfortunately, the cover of the english translation, A Void, features the letter E inside a big crossed out circle, telling the reader exactly what they're getting into before reading. It's not unfortunate because I think there's something explicitly wrong with directly telling your readers about your process but that Perec originally chose to do no such thing--he let the work speak for itself.

Of course in writing it, Perec must have known that once the word spread that he'd accomplished such a task, the process would become the reason people would want to read the book to begin with. When I read it, I couldn't help but notice the lack of E's at first, but soon got wrapped up in the story, which, without giving too much away (I'd highly recommend you read it), is basically about some people trying to find a missing person, who, they find out through reading his journals, was seeking an inexplicable something and seemingly disappeared in the process.

With that being said, I've always liked revealing my process. I do think however that when the process is simple enough it becomes obvious and is potentially more fun for the reader to realize on their own. On the flip side, if the process is vague or hidden, readers won't necessarily be able to appreciate the entirety of the work as they would if they had a certain foreknowledge of the process.

For the purpose of this blog, I'll be purposefully explaining myself even if it's not necessary. The idea here is to cure writer's block after all, and hopefully any of you out there experiencing similar apathetic vibrations will attempt to use these processes to lead to new creative works and ideas. Without further ado, I give you my first post on a hopefully long-lived and rigorous blog:

Minute Poems

You'll find that many constraints restrict vocabulary, in fact, the most recognizable and "acceptable" constraints do. Rhyme schemes, for instance, structural forms like sonnets, restrict vocabulary by requiring you to only use certain words. More complicated constraints such as those proposed by the OuLiPo  can limit your word choices even further (a good example is the above-mentioned lipogram).

As much as I like these types of constraints (you'll see a lot of them I guarantee), I feel like there's a lot of room to explore beyond simple word restriction. I've thought about potentially restricting space (like writing a poem on a rock or a pair of scissors), and I'll get around to that some day, but my favorite simple constraint is limiting the time you take to write a poem.

The following poems were all written in exactly one minute, without any sort of doctoring or editing after. I find the limitation extremely liberating and yet makes you eerily aware of the passing of time, simultaneously giving you the freedom to write, but imprisoning you in a cage of anxiety--but the results can be quite astounding, (or at least fun), and after 15-30 of these, you can sit back and see how much you wrote, which can cause you to implode with guilt in the sudden realization of just how much time your really waste day to day, hour to hour, minute to minute. Enjoy!

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1)

Freedom to move about
However you want

Stay still if you want
Don't talk to me

Have something to say
Now I can't think of

Any time, darling
Why not listen to the sounds

The air conditioner

2)

I expect to
Motion another syllable
There.
For the time being I've got to hand it to you
From another place
Found objects.

3)

Interconnectivity
Passive listening and a hum then
Silence against silence
Grains of motion
Wavelengths
Electromagnetic coalescence:

4)

There's always a sense of self-destruction
Lingering in the back of the mind
Similar to a tumor or other protuberance
Engaging it would leave me
Restless

5)

Dying then
Quietly
Emergingly
Birth

Some mythic aspiration
Dedicated

Steadfast existence
An attempt at being

6)

The dinosaurs were put here
Their bones cast
In an effort by
Who-knows
To divine what knowledge?

7)

It ends much differently than it began
Think of all the wonderful people
Their answers
And consider their thoughts

How many people
Really
How many?

8)

Egg-round
That is to say
Squarish
But without edges
Rectangular
Emphasis on rhomboid
Triangle-stuck
Paralellogram-driven
Visions of purity

9)

There is no such thing as waste
In the world of Green
Green movements stretching far
Valleys and valleys of Green
In my hand I hold a fleshy key
That opens up all the Green doors
And all the Green locks

10)

Lying here naked
I consider myself in the mirror
For once I think
I'm beautiful
But beauty is absent in the nascence of obscurity
Absent, but enveloping
Amniotic sac

11)

A world ago, lost sentience, trapped
Where is it you'd have me go?
And what would you have me do?
Laughing,
Your answer is nowhere, nothing;
My answer is here, everything,
But I'd never tell you.

12)

For a moment
But it comes in waves
Harder than a wooden eye
Or a metal tooth
Nails driven into skin
Lacerations of hair follicles
Down to the very roots
Infinity shreds

13)

Playing again
A duck sprays water off it's feathers
Leaves spiral down and up and whorls of them
Mud prints and polliwogs
Collapsing clouds

14)

Think of it like this:
a handgun

Then imagine:
a bullet

Let yourself feel:
the trigger,
tongue
and cheek

15)

Eyes sometimes too sharp
Look at me you can't can you
But always always touching
With your jagged breath
When, against the curb,
I lay my head