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