:: Poetry ::

:: Friday, November 30, 2001 ::

Okay Sean,
I don't have much in the way of constructive criticism for "The Poet Writes a Personal Ad ." It is really fucking good. I especially like:
"long evenings of torment / and Baudelaire"
"half-deserted streets"
"flee from me"
"lovely in her clothes"
Your intertwining and twisting of other poetry works very well to underscore your subject, and I like the way you circle back to the dog.
Small suggestions: line 6, substitute "for" for "of"; "tears the night with its mournful rending" might be too much, even as exaggeration in the context of the poem. Might want to settle for either rending or tearing but not both.
:: Rob 11/30/2001 05:15:00 PM [+] ::
...

Okay, I'm here -- finally. I saw some stuff about posting to a webpage, I guess I'll find that soon (or you will all simply laugh at me as I rightly deserve; self-deprecation in under two sentences! New record for me.)

As for next week being "My week," I'm afraid me buckos that I'll have to bow out, at least until the end of the week. Stacks of excruciatingly bad papers are taunting me from my desk, and I've got to get rid of them soon. End of the week, however, I'm your man.

"The Poet on the Comedy Circuit": I like the idea, and I like the voice / tone that comes across in the poem. I, like Paul, had some questions about line breaks in the original, but I've got to say that I'm even less certain about the line breaks in the beginning of the revision. The rhythm seems to naturally break into shorter patterns, and the long lines in stanzas one and two want, in my ear, to be broken up. Also, I think some of the lines were weakened in the revision; for instance, taming stanza 8 by changing "screws" to "fails" takes some of the oomph (a technical term, I assure you) out of the line. This final couple of lines, also, might work better with a little rewording. I wondered about this:

You ever notice how your father is always
here? He’s in the wings dreaming
the end of this poem—make me,
he says, young and clever like you.

Of course, now that I see these reworked lines on the screen instead of on a Post-It note, I'm not so happy with my rewording.

Maybe I should just shut the fuck up.


:: Rob 11/30/2001 05:06:00 PM [+] ::
...

I figure, what can you do but refuse to read this poem? I decided to send it on anyway and let you ignore it, or talk about this as opposed to the last one or what have you. Give me some suggestions on how to make this forum better fit your picky needs. I figure you all will cringe with the line "Pedestal a must" but wouldn't the public like that? And isn't that to whom we're writing? And yes, Rob, it looks like this is a series of poems now. I'm leaning towards one week per person, so how about next week is Rob's to use as he sees fit. This might make him write more, or simply give us some old stuff to fix. Also, did you all know that you can edit each other's posts, so you could go in and edit my poem and say, how do you like it now. You'd need to tell us to take another look, but then come to think of it, it would be hard to see the changes, so maybe we could just cut the poem out, make changes and repost the whole thing. That's better, I guess. Hey, does it seem like I have too much time on my hands to talk about this stuff?
Sean

The Poet Writes a Personal Ad

I enjoy long evenings of torment
and Baudelaire, walks by myself
down half-deserted streets
with my convenient dog
whom I trot out as a mirror
of my primal, silent longing
and playful outward appearance.

Seeking a woman with sorrow
in her bones and a tendency to flee
from me. She should be lovely
in her clothes and happy
in the company of others. Pedestal
a must. Should be a storehouse
of anguish and potentiality.

If you are content, happy and looking
for a change, please write. We will listen,
listen to the passing train as it tears
the night with its mournful rending.
The silver will shine on the table
and the soup will chill as we regard
the dog howling to be let out.

:: Sean 11/30/2001 12:40:00 PM [+] ::
...

Here's a bit of work on this. See if you like it better, and I may include my other poem as well. Perhaps we could just devote one week to each of us? Put as much out there as we could? I really don't know. What do you think. Oh, Josh and Paul, you both know Rodney. Paul was an undergrad creative writer up there, and Josh and I met as grad students in Cinderville.


The Poet on the Comedy Circuit

You ever notice how the sun floats in your eyes
like bright light from the heavens?
(wait, I told that wrong).

You ever notice how this poem opens in your hands
like a turtle?
(It loves you so much.)

Here’s one about a boy who drove all night
down roads of dust
looking for his father.

Here’s one about a boy who turned crying
to his sister and mother saying,
“I’ve become my father.”

My mother and sister smiling
at me. My embarrased tears
wetting my face.

But seriously folks, the boy cried,
driving his father’s car, by the grave
of his father’s dead father.

You ever notice how poems work themselves
to death, worried they have become
their father?

You ever notice how the poet wants to talk to a girl,
fails the metaphor and ends up talking
about his father?

Here’s one about you. You’re reading this
and thinking, "tell me something
about me, asshole."

Here’s one about you. You’re laughing
thinking about how thankful you are
that your father isn’t here.

You ever notice how your father is always
here? He’s in the wings dreaming
the end of this poem—make me
young and clever like you, he says.

:: Sean 11/30/2001 11:54:00 AM [+] ::
...

Paul, I think that you need to hit "post and publish" or your stuff will just be posted to the "blogger" page, not the "blogspot" page. (I just found your stuff on blogger and not on the main page, so I posted them) And or course, no one is in charge, so make your own suggestions on how to proceed. My idea was to talk about my stuff till Tuesday, daily or hourly, whenever the desire hits you to make me cry. AND WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN ABOUT LINE BREAKS!!!! Just kidding. I'll try it again. I wrote another one today called, "Poet Writes a Personal Ad" which I like better. Can I give you all it instead?? I don't know. I'll try to redo the lines on this one and see if it helps. I'm glad we're going to try this.
:: Sean 11/30/2001 11:42:00 AM [+] ::
...

Jesus, Josh, you're amazingly interested and gung ho. I'd say let me have it first. Then we can run the course on this poem and it'll be Rob's chance or yours. Hell, let's do this: Rob, your poem is due next Tuesday. We have from now till then to fix mine, and you have from now till then to write your own. How's this sound?

:: Sean 11/29/2001 09:51:00 AM [+] ::
...

Here's a first poem for the offering. Not too happy with this one yet. Let me have it.
--Sean



The Poet on the Comedy Circuit

You ever notice how the sun floats in your eyes
like bright light from the heavens?
(wait, I told that wrong).

You ever notice how this poem opens
in your hands like a turtle?
(It loves you so much.)

Here’s one about a boy who drove
all night down roads of smoke
looking for his father.

Here’s one about a boy who turned crying
to his sister and mother saying,
“I’ve become my father.”

But seriously, the boy cried, driving
his father’s car, by the grave
of his father’s dead father.

My mother and sister smiling
at me. My embarrased tears
wetting my face.

You ever notice how poems work themselves
to death, worried they have become
their father?

You ever notice how the poet wants to talk
to a girl, screws the metaphor and ends up
talking about his father?

Here’s one about you. You’re reading this
and thinking, “tell me something
about me, asshole.”

Here’s one about you. You’re laughing
thinking about how thankful you are
that your father isn’t here.

You ever notice how your father is always
here? He’s in the wings dreaming
the end of this poem—make me
young and clever like you, he says.

:: Sean 11/28/2001 10:24:00 AM [+] ::
...