Interact 2 “the mind of annaswirls”

[twelveoone]

annaswirls is one of my favourite poets not only here, but for all time, everywhere, I had a tough time figuring out why. I think I know why, now. I shall explain. What better way to do that, and introduce Interact 2 “the mind of annaswirls” by pulling apart her poem on poetry and editing.

“my poem
snorts and shits”

Not quite what you would expect, anna has you here, she is up to something, she fills in the details next.

“scratches his back against a splintered fence
they wrestle 'im down for some cleaning up”

Oh yeah! The title “pork and poetry (rev.27)” she is talking about pigs; poetry and pigs, novel.
Next, the lead in…

“he comes out quiet, hairless
smooth plastic packaged
perfectly formed”

to the punchline.

“bologna”

Now, what does every good comedian do when the have you, they don’t let up - and with impeccable timing, another punch line.

“I miss the smell.”

Quite different, here we have poetry about writing poetry, that is not structured like poetry. It uses the tools of poetry, but the structure of comedy. We all know what see is talking about, without her mentioning either paper, pen, or words, we filled it in. Note also, the one “I” in the poem, and the lead lines, there is a self deprecating quality that is uncommon in poetry, but common in comedy.

Now this is funny, but anna uses the same structure, and “logic leaps” of comedy in a lot of her serious work also.
And that is why I love her.

Please, no comments on this intro
(you can do, if you wish, in the old interact thread) or this poem (you can do that here)

http://www.literotica.com:81/stories/showstory.php?id=158501

With anna I chose to throw two out, because it illustrates patterns in technique that one would not.
Out of respect for her privacy, we are not here to question what personal things these are about, we here question the structure, intent, techniques etc. of two others:


If you merely wish to tell her, how wonderful they are, do so at these links, where it counts more.
Just like Venice
http://www.literotica.com:81/stories/showstory.php?id=155133

allowing this swallow
http://www.literotica.com:81/stories/showstory.php?id=154751

Feel free to ask away, anna has consented to answer
but we would like to keep this a no nonsense thread, about these two poems only.

 

[twelveoone]

Just like Venice
by annaswirls ©
~

pulling a red wagon down the back alleys
looking for a metaphor
as if hidden somewhere
requiring twisted hangers for extraction

find myself begging for parcels of Europe
in back yards of Baltimore townhouses

striped umbrella becomes a gondolier's shirt
and wrought iron table and chairs
become outdoor breakfast cafe
with chocolate spread on toast
coffee to die for
wait...
I think that was Venice too

maybe this alley is not Europe just Venice
mucky gutter water running down the middle
from someones sump pump or draining vinyl pool
it runs constantly

this stream down the depression over colored glass
fallen from recycling truck
pressed into a summer soft tar mosaic

but this counts for nothing
no clever literary trickery
no sleeveless magic

tonight metaphor has become calculus

poetry should not require differential equations
or the knowledge of greek symbols

or should it?

cut you a deal
I will give you algebra II maybe
trigonometry

but just know this
tonight all I want to do

recite elementary patterns
love me
love me
love me not

upping the odds on the daisy wheel probability

or just count
count the stars in the summer sky,
falling without a sound

the days until you come home
and the number of cliches
that fall from my mind
into the ditch

just like Venice

 

[twelveoone]

~
allowing this swallow
by annaswirls ©

quick, slide in orange print envelopes
hand barely escaping the double row
of razor teeth of the fed-ex box,

I rescue my left arm just in time-
sweater unraveles in a trail of
black yarn caught on incisor


I think they were all incisors


muted street walking
everything becomes a gaping mouth:

hungry toothless metal gutters
with slow-open, lower lip stretched below
like a door knocker gargoyle
trying to release the ring
from his under-bite

leaves me barely avoiding sidewalk open cellar
door to basement of Mezzapastos

a single tomato
crushed on the bottom step
coaxes me to join him
among boot stomped lettuce-
but half-smoked winston agrees with

broken brick-lined storm drain that sucks down
ez wash soap scum, three legged dog piss
and bus stop tears, all delta bound,
tempting me to allow the swallow
and just go

 

[twelveoone]

Just to start this off, a bunch of loaded questions.

In both of these, I seem not to be getting a clear picture, how intentional is the obscuring?

In “just like Venice”, is there is a feeling of longing, perhaps for two things, can you discuss?

In “allowing this swallow” littered with its numerous Daliesque mouth grotesqueries, I get the feeling of apprehension. Is this correct?

“pulling a red wagon down the back alleys” what are you alluding to here?


In both, there seems to be a pause, as if you are having conversation with yourself. In each this does two things, it invites the audience in and reinforces the theme of the poem. The question, here is, how deliberate is this use of this techique? Why do you use it?

“wait...
I think that was Venice too”

“I think they were all incisors”


“quick, slide in orange print envelopes” what are you alluding to here?

both have side mentions of water flowing, I guess can one assume here, the passage of something, correct?

both have similar, almost off hand invites to the bottom, what is your thinking here?

“that fall from my mind
into the ditch”

“a single tomato
crushed on the bottom step
coaxes me to join him”

 

[annaswirls]

Here is the revision. I am thinking I might have to un-revise a bit.

metaphors are nothing like Venice

I hunt the elusive metaphor while
begging for morsels of Europe
in the alley behind Baltimore's
red brick townhouses

Striped umbrella is a gondolier's shirt
this wrought iron table an outdoor cafe with
soft chocolate spread on breakfast toast...
wait, that was Venice too

as is the sump pump water that runs
down the middle of the V sloped alley
washing over the broken glass
pressed into a melted tar mosaic

But this counts for nothing
no literary trickery
no sleeveless magic

Tonight metaphor is calculus
Should poetry require differential equations
and Greek symbols?

Resorting to the integration
of elementary patterns
loves me, loves me, loves me,
loves me not
we up the odds on
the daisy wheel of probability

and count cliches
that disappear down the back alley river

which is nothing like Venice

 

[annaswirls]

First, judging from the questions, I really think that either I have a subconscious plan in mind when I write my poems (I swear I do not put these things in intentionally) or you believe that I think more than I do

Just to start this off, a bunch of loaded questions.

In both of these, I seem not to be getting a clear picture, how intentional is the obscuring?

I do not enjoy "spell it out" writing, although I do it often. I do not intend to be obscure, but I knew the crazy one about the envelope was, but that was part of the point-- it was the way I needed to express my experience.

I don't necessarily write symbolism, metaphor into my poems. Symbolism and metaphor HAPPEN and I catch them and write them down. Trying to invent them is entirely too cerebral for me, I am more of a mid and hind brain writer. More gutteral than intellectual.




In “just like Venice”, is there is a feeling of longing, perhaps for two things, can you discuss?


Yes. Longing for more than two things.

1.) the ability to write more professionally, which takes a lot of work. I am not good at making poems fit.

2.) to be able to just write how I want to and not worry about it- to have it be easy as my first draft

3.) I want to go back to Europe lol



In “allowing this swallow” littered with its numerous Daliesque mouth grotesqueries, I get the feeling of apprehension. Is this correct?


I wrote this after having a flash of anxiety putting some letter (I honestly can't remember what it was) into a blue mailbox.

Sometimes I have this feeling that my whole existance shrinks inside so small so deep that my flesh and skin are merely shells, a device for carrying this existance from place to place. I feel almost like I do not own that vessel, numb and detached. It was one of those times I wrote this. I did not trust whoever was carrying my body. This sounds crazy, I know, but oh well. Sometimes it happens.


i Was also feeling at the time that I was hesitating on making a move in my life, and should just trust my instincts even if it felt like dropping into a storm drain.


“pulling a red wagon down the back alleys” what are you alluding to here?


alluding to. Well I really was pulling a red wagon down alleys.

With my kids

I had just started posting poems to workshop at a very technically based, more traditionally centered site. I have since come to feel very comfortable there, but at the time, it was very distressing to hear comments like ~writing about writing is cliche (on the pork and poetry thing) and what do you mean here, it is vague, it is incomplete, unclear, show not tell etc etc etc I did not really know how to fix anything. I felt like a stump in a forrest.


So on this walk, for the first time really, I felt that writing had become work like math had always been for me.

I was desperate to find something new, something meaningful, something I could "show".... and for some reason, I tried to turn the alley ways into Europe.

To take myself away from the mundane (but enjoyable and important) tasks of being an at home mother back to Europe where I was carefree.... which I guess why the red wagon is important?





In both, there seems to be a pause, as if you are having conversation with yourself. In each this does two things, it invites the audience in and reinforces the theme of the poem. The question, here is, how deliberate is this use of this techique? Why do you use it?

“wait...
I think that was Venice too”

“I think they were all incisors”

I do this a lot. Bits of metacognition. I think mainly to show that as a writer, I do not claim to know what I am talking about. To add that pause for reflection. To give it a real voice.



“quick, slide in orange print envelopes” what are you alluding to here?


just mailing a package. sometimes can cause distress, sending something away, giving up information, signed sealed delivered ahhhh someone will read my secrets

both have side mentions of water flowing, I guess can one assume here, the passage of something, correct?

I think I use water too much. I am an aquarious. Water is especially meaningful to me right now, I do feel like it is a connection with things, people and places and times that we cannot be with, but there is this connection, like tracing a maze backwards as a kid... tracing the rivers and drains you can connect the dots and your mind and spirit can get a more direct route.




both have similar, almost off hand invites to the bottom, what is your thinking here?

“that fall from my mind
into the ditch”

“a single tomato
crushed on the bottom step
coaxes me to join him”



I don't dream that I am falling anymore, I just feel it when I am awake. It is sometimes intoxicating... like falling in love with everything, sometimes scary, like falling uncontrollably, sometimes exciting, like falling uncontrollably and liking it....

Thank you for the questions, I really am humbled. As I have said before, I really try not to take my writing very seriously. I am trying to get my work to a point where I can share it with more people. I do have an over-arching fear that I will lose my honesty in trying to please too many people, but I also have this desire to wel, to fit in. (god that sounds horrible. I am glad you asked this question. Not completely conform, just not show up in jeans at a black tie party. Only people who have made it can do that.

I have already been told that I have edited the soul right from my poems. It is hard for me to see where the soul lies in them.

Like I said, I swear, the first draft just happens. I often write with my eyes closed it goes from this place, not my brain necessarily, but some place right to the paper.

it is making it readable, somewhat clear, grammatically acceptable etc etc that is so hard for me. Interesting, because that is what I was feeling on both the poems you decided to review! Did you do that on purpose?

Thanks again!

~anna

 

[PatCarrington]

anna

when i put the two versions of 'just like Venice' side by side and read, i find i like the original version far better.

i'm very curious what prompted you to make such major changes.

i'd also like you to, if you remember, go over some of the reasons you made specific changes.

since there are so many major changes, including total elimination of some passages which seemed to fit to me, you can pick the ones you deem most important.

thanks

patrick

 

[twelveoone]

The Red Wagon

First, judging from the questions, I really think that either I have a subconscious plan in mind





~anna

..."alluding to. Well I really was pulling a red wagon down alleys
With my kids"

anna, I warned you these where loaded questions... it was loaded because you mentioned it in the comments section as a reply to Tara

from original...
"pulling a red wagon down the back alleys...in back yards of Baltimore townhouses

from revision...
"in the alley behind Baltimore's
red brick townhouses"

I read the original , and for some reason the red brick was implied, without saying so.

"To take myself away from the mundane (but enjoyable and important) tasks of being an at home mother back to Europe where I was carefree.... which I guess why the red wagon is important?"

anna, it was the lead line, it was important, if not why should it be there.

"Water is especially meaningful to me right now, I do feel like it is a connection with things, people and places and times that we cannot be with, but there is this connection, like tracing a maze backwards as a kid..."


back to the red wagon...
there is something in these lines that are child-like, magical
"recite elementary patterns
love me
love me
love me not...


...or just count
count the stars in the summer sky,
falling without a sound"

when I first read this, I got an image of a young girl

and you where pulling your kids in a wagon, perhaps that magic moment, when you glimpse your childhood, the things you missed, and wonder about their future at the same time, if they will do better...
you have it almost done
as the original
but, that is just my opinion

 

[annaswirls]

Hi Pat-- thanks for taking the time to do this.

short answer, I changed it because other people suggested it. I am in crisis and need to trust my own instincts, get some confidence. I know I do not need to change every suggested revision, and I decide not to in many cases. Most of the changes I made really make sense to me.

I have been unrevising some of the poems.


I have to print out both and see why I cut them etc.

anna

when i put the two versions of 'just like Venice' side by side and read, i find i like the original version far better.

i'm very curious what prompted you to make such major changes.

i'd also like you to, if you remember, go over some of the reasons you made specific changes.

since there are so many major changes, including total elimination of some passages which seemed to fit to me, you can pick the ones you deem most important.

thanks

patrick

 

[annaswirls]

Hi Pat-- thanks for taking the time to do this.

short answer, I changed it because other people suggested it. I am in crisis and need to trust my own instincts, get some confidence. I know I do not need to change every suggested revision, and I decide not to in many cases. Most of the changes I made really make sense to me.

I have been unrevising some of the poems.


I have to print out both and see why I cut them etc.

ps I do edit my own poems, and make improvements as well as mistakes, I did not intend to "blame" those who give me comments, suggestions here or elsewhere. They are so so appreciated, needed and helpful

 

[jd4george]

I am enjoying this dissection of anna's mind! I agree with 12-0-1 that anna's poetry intrigues me, assuages me, and picques me.

There is one thing that jumped out of one of anna's replies:

"I changed it because other people suggested it. I am in crisis and need to trust my own instincts."

Anna, print that line out and tape it over your toilet. Everytime you flush, repeat this mantra three times!

I've read everyone of your poems that are hidden on the front pages of this site. Some have been read again and again. I have also watched you tinker in the public forums.

Something that seems to happen when you knee-jerk cave to some suggestions, is that the wonderfully honest, open-eyed bewilderment of your muse (read that as your voice) seems to become muted. It's almost as if the child has been chastised.

Why do we do that? Sure, we need to be willing to change and grow and adapt... but why, like that child, are we so ready to abandon what we are in order to be liked?

I'm not casting blame here. I suffer from that same malady. Only in my case, I'm old enough (experienced enough?... persnickety enough?) to resist. Thankfully, I have learned the grace to not throw a tantrum when I'm doing it.

(At least... I think I have!)

Sometimes, the best response to critical comment is: "Thank you for the well-typed response."

 

[annaswirls]

Re: The Red Wagon

Are you a psycho-analyst? Goodness! You did pull some things out there I did not realize I had put in.

eek

thanks!


and the red wagon will be put back in. I will work on this one, thanks for taking the time to do this.


Anna

..."alluding to. Well I really was pulling a red wagon down alleys
With my kids"

anna, I warned you these where loaded questions... it was loaded because you mentioned it in the comments section as a reply to Tara

from original...
"pulling a red wagon down the back alleys...in back yards of Baltimore townhouses

from revision...
"in the alley behind Baltimore's
red brick townhouses"

I read the original , and for some reason the red brick was implied, without saying so.

"To take myself away from the mundane (but enjoyable and important) tasks of being an at home mother back to Europe where I was carefree.... which I guess why the red wagon is important?"

anna, it was the lead line, it was important, if not why should it be there.

"Water is especially meaningful to me right now, I do feel like it is a connection with things, people and places and times that we cannot be with, but there is this connection, like tracing a maze backwards as a kid..."


back to the red wagon...
there is something in these lines that are child-like, magical
"recite elementary patterns
love me
love me
love me not...


...or just count
count the stars in the summer sky,
falling without a sound"

when I first read this, I got an image of a young girl

and you where pulling your kids in a wagon, perhaps that magic moment, when you glimpse your childhood, the things you missed, and wonder about their future at the same time, if they will do better...
you have it almost done
as the original
but, that is just my opinion

 

[PatCarrington]

I am enjoying this dissection of anna's mind! I agree with 12-0-1 that anna's poetry intrigues me, assuages me, and picques me.

There is one thing that jumped out of one of anna's replies:

"I changed it because other people suggested it. I am in crisis and need to trust my own instincts."

Anna, print that line out and tape it over your toilet. Everytime you flush, repeat this mantra three times!

I've read everyone of your poems that are hidden on the front pages of this site. Some have been read again and again. I have also watched you tinker in the public forums.

Something that seems to happen when you knee-jerk cave to some suggestions, is that the wonderfully honest, open-eyed bewilderment of your muse (read that as your voice) seems to become muted. It's almost as if the child has been chastised.

Why do we do that? Sure, we need to be willing to change and grow and adapt... but why, like that child, are we so ready to abandon what we are in order to be liked?

I'm not casting blame here. I suffer from that same malady. Only in my case, I'm old enough (experienced enough?... persnickety enough?) to resist. Thankfully, I have learned the grace to not throw a tantrum when I'm doing it.

(At least... I think I have!)

Sometimes, the best response to critical comment is: "Thank you for the well-typed response."

i second these thoughts completely. in the end, no one knows a piece of poetry better than the writer.

none of us should change one word of what we write unless we understand exactly WHY we are doing it, and it makes sense.

be persnickety.

 

[annaswirls]

I am thinking that if even three people think this about my work then I must be doing something right and something wrong. Trick is figuring out which is which.

I like that people think that my work is honest, open-eyed etc but I also suffer the weakness of ambition. I want to get my stuff out there.

If you know any place that you think might adopt my stray poems, unrefined, please let me know.

Still feeling my way around.

Thank you for the encouragement. I will keep working.

~anna<--trying to remember if I am supposed to flush three times and do what?

I am enjoying this dissection of anna's mind! I agree with 12-0-1 that anna's poetry intrigues me, assuages me, and picques me.

There is one thing that jumped out of one of anna's replies:

"I changed it because other people suggested it. I am in crisis and need to trust my own instincts."

Anna, print that line out and tape it over your toilet. Everytime you flush, repeat this mantra three times!

I've read everyone of your poems that are hidden on the front pages of this site. Some have been read again and again. I have also watched you tinker in the public forums.

Something that seems to happen when you knee-jerk cave to some suggestions, is that the wonderfully honest, open-eyed bewilderment of your muse (read that as your voice) seems to become muted. It's almost as if the child has been chastised.

Why do we do that? Sure, we need to be willing to change and grow and adapt... but why, like that child, are we so ready to abandon what we are in order to be liked?

I'm not casting blame here. I suffer from that same malady. Only in my case, I'm old enough (experienced enough?... persnickety enough?) to resist. Thankfully, I have learned the grace to not throw a tantrum when I'm doing it.

(At least... I think I have!)

Sometimes, the best response to critical comment is: "Thank you for the well-typed response."

 

[annaswirls]

Not ignoring this question, just letting things settle in my mind before I re-visit my re-visions


I will think through why I changed things as I re-do this thing (is it worth it) and will let you know then.

anna

when i put the two versions of 'just like Venice' side by side and read, i find i like the original version far better.

i'm very curious what prompted you to make such major changes.

i'd also like you to, if you remember, go over some of the reasons you made specific changes.

since there are so many major changes, including total elimination of some passages which seemed to fit to me, you can pick the ones you deem most important.

thanks

patrick

 

[PatCarrington]

Not ignoring this question, just letting things settle in my mind before I re-visit my re-visions


I will think through why I changed things as I re-do this thing (is it worth it) and will let you know then.

anna

it is without a doubt a poem worthy of working on. the red wagon belongs IN, i think, for sure.

whenever you form an answer is fine with me.

 

[jd4george]

I need to trust my own instincts.
I need to trust my own instincts.
I need to trust my own instincts.

"Flush"

I need to trust my own instincts.
I need to trust my own instincts.
I need to trust my own instincts.

"Flush"

I need to trust my own instincts.
I need to trust my own instincts.
I need to trust my own instincts.

You all get the idea.

As for places that will adopt our stray poems, unrefined... Anna, the answer is yes and no. Occasionally, words land on paper that have no need of change. Those are always adoptable, somewhere. Some places are good. Some places are evil.

Do I know of good, safe places? Yes. Will I tell you exactly where? No.

I believe my reasoning here is important. Wanna be "published"? Good! So do I. But wanting to be published is no different than actually writing a poem. The first part can be relatively easy.

But the work of being a poet, ain't. Period.

Part of the glory of becoming published is to go through the angst and fear and rejection. Without that toil, that front-end work.... you can't appreciate the final result.

Want to become published? Then submit. Write good cover letters. Submit again. Always say thank you for rejection. Get to know the publishers. Get to know the poets. Read. Submit. Read some more. Submit. Write more thank you letters.

Then, find a good source for publications. Don't go to the library... buy the goddamned thing! Own it! (And while you're at it, pick up a book of poetry from a poet you've never heard of).

And then submit. Write good cover letters. Submit again. Always say thank you for rejection. Get to know the publishers. Get to know the poets. Read. Submit. Read some more. Submit. Write more thank you letters.

Am I being a pain-in-the-ass? GOOD!

Why? I now own some 20 chapbooks of poetry written by folks who I have come to know... and they're all inscribed to me, given to me as gifts. I correspond with several editors who are now my friends... and because they are, I no longer submit to them. I now understand how important it is to buy poetry... the books and the magazines. I now have a fair amount of "acceptances" under my belt. I now have some awards from some pretty enviable places. I guess I get to call myself a poet.

But more important... I now appreciate the work of those poets who have gone before.

I can't walk in their footsteps.... and I could never fill their shoes. But I get to see this thing called poetry from their vantage point.

The process is easy. The steps even easier. The work is hard. The rewards are great.

Despite all that pontification... I close simply as:

Still a Wannabe...

 

[twelveoone]

Re: Re: The Red Wagon

Are you a psycho-analyst? Goodness! You did pull some things out there I did not realize I had put in.

eek

thanks!


and the red wagon will be put back in. I will work on this one, thanks for taking the time to do this.


Anna

I've been called both, but this is the first time in one sitting.

"I really think that either I have a subconscious plan in mind when I write my poems" most often, that is where the good shit is, all you have to do is put it in a language, that others can hang on to, most often you do that quite well.
Another point here, is that what YOU write has to mean something to you, if it doesn't, who else is it going to mean anything to. When you edit, to clarify, finesse the words, structure, etc. It must retain something that has meaning to you, otherwise, as you said “I miss the smell.”

BTW the red wagon have a name? Rosebud? just checking

 

[lostandfounder]

Anna, I love your poetry, but I agree that you shouldn't worry so much about what others say about it. It's your opinion that matters most when it comes to your stuff. After all, isn't poetry supposed to the langauge of the soul?

Now that the speech is over I do have a question for you. Could you explain a little further how you approach writing? You mentioned that you just close your eyes for the first draft. So you don't worry about structure at all then? I find that hard to believe based on the final works.

Also, when do you coinsider a poem 'done'? or do you ever feel that is?

I was going to ask a few questions on your graciously posted poems here, but 1201 asked the few questions I did have.

That's all for now.

L&Fer

 

[annaswirls]

Anna, I love your poetry, but I agree that you shouldn't worry so much about what others say about it. It's your opinion that matters most when it comes to your stuff. After all, isn't poetry supposed to the langauge of the soul?

I guess so, but if no one speaks the language it is kind of pointless, or if the people you are looking to reach turn you away because you are not "good enough" then that makes it tough too.

Now that the speech is over I do have a question for you. Could you explain a little further how you approach writing? You mentioned that you just close your eyes for the first draft. So you don't worry about structure at all then? I find that hard to believe based on the final works.

Also, when do you coinsider a poem 'done'? or do you ever feel that is?

I really do type many of my poems with my eyes closed. Like in the all of a sudden thread. Some I write in my notebook and re-type them.

Sometimes I have a minimalistic poem rambling in my head for a week or so then I write it down. Hunger Moon. Most of the time, honest, I see something that is meaningful to me, if hits me as being important somehow. I think about why it is important, sometimes writing through this, and when I figure it out, I write the poem.

switching things around, adding etc.

Some people are able to write outside their own experiences, I have a hard time doing that. I have, but it is not easy.


I rarely have a plan for a poem, not a conscious plan.

Sometims poems evolve from pieces of older poems dropped on the cutting room floor.

or pieces of letters written

I am often inspired through communication with artists or other people brinking on the edge of sanity. They sometimes see what I miss but understand.

Something they say soaks in and comes out as a poem.

I write too much about myself

shush

When is it done?
When I can't stand to look at it anymore, when I decide that it sucks and it is not worth any more time.

I ahve a few that are done.

Thanks for your quesitons, I learn so much by answering questions.

~anna


I was going to ask a few questions on your graciously posted poems here, but 1201 asked the few questions I did have.

That's all for now.

L&Fer

 

[tarablackwood22]

Anna,

The questions I had have already been covered, and I don't want to just make one up, which is why I haven't chimed in.

We have already discussed "Just Like Venice" together, and you know how much I love it. I also prefer the original version.

And you and I have also discussed together the influence of opinion in forcing us to change our work. We all have a tendency to alter too quickly under criticism, I think, as if we are talking to God.

I concur with jd4 and Pat.....Believe in your work, and change only when you know the reason you are doing so.

Tara

 

[twelveoone]

Originally posted by annaswirls I am often inspired through communication with artists or other people brinking on the edge of sanity . They sometimes see what I miss but understand.

I guess so, but if no one speaks the language it is kind of pointless, or if the people you are looking to reach turn you away because you are not "good enough" then that makes it tough too.

Thanks for your quesitons, I learn so much by answering questions.

anna, three things in your answer to Lost&founder, I would like to touch upon again
1.) gee, I always said such nice things about you

2.) this is always tough, and warrents a discussion on its on. Part of it is knowing the audience, part of it is perception. You will do well, there is enough there so you can do it your way. Note, look who participated.

3.)this is part of the point of the interact series, object being you learn about yourself, as you learn about the language of the audience. The audience also has a chance to see what you are doing.

I know we have gotten away from the discussion of the poems here. It looks like it was worth it.

I still love you, but then you are one of the funniest people around here

not my intension to close the thread, just wanted to express my thanks, to annaswirls and to all who participated

 

[SeattleRain]

Just like Venice

I made this revision (okay anna did it but is too lazy to sign on to post) I figured I should post it here, kind of as a conclusion. Thanks again for the suggestions, this was a really positive experience overall.


Just like Venice


pulling a red wagon down back alleys,
I look for a metaphor
as if hidden or stuck--
twisted hangers required for extraction.

I find myself begging for parcels of Europe
in back yards of Baltimore townhouses.

a striped umbrella becomes a gondolier's shirt,
wrought iron table and chairs
become an outdoor cafe
with chocolate for breakfast
and coffee to die for
wait... I think that was Venice too

maybe this alley should not be Europe,
just Venice, with canals of mucky gutter water
drained from sump pumps, back yard car washes,
vinyl pools. It all streams down

the sloped alley, washing over
amber and jade glass from tuesday’s recycling truck,
fallen and tire-pressed into a summer soft tar mosaic.

but this counts for nothing
no clever literary trickery
no sleeveless magic.

tonight metaphor has become calculus.
poetry should not require differential equations
or the knowledge of greek symbols,

or should it?

still all I want to do
is recite elementary patterns
love me
loved me
loves me not

upping the odds on the daisy wheel probability

and count empty phrases
as they fall into the ditch,

just like Venice.

 

[twelveoone]

it is nice to know that sometimes people remember to do things you ask. (above)
Thank you
The red Wagon is back!
This type of stanza breaks bothers me:

vinyl pools. It all streams down

the sloped alley, washing over


I think I remember asking Pat and or/Angeline why they use them.

 

[annaswirls]

it is nice to know that sometimes people remember to do things you ask. (above)
Thank you
The red Wagon is back!
This type of stanza breaks bothers me:

vinyl pools. It all streams down

the sloped alley, washing over


I think I remember asking Pat and or/Angeline why they use them.

yes, the wagon is back -- I have been working on this fucker on and off this whole time,

and damn if I know anything about line breaks. I was hoping someone would teach me how to do them. I am clueless.

I got some lessons from the master of line breaks, but he gave me only a vague lesson, wax on wax off and the like.