Saturday, December 19, 2009

The Waiting Game

I'm waiting for the last of my students to turn in their final projects. These will either be analyses of nonwritten media (e.g. political cartoons, advertisements, dance routines, film segments, music, etc.) or original creations of nonwritten media. I like it as an exercise in composition because, let's face it, much of the composition we encounter these days is not based in words. Slightly more than 3/4 of our class time is spent on making our connection to words stronger, more deliberate, so I don't feel bad about going multimedia in the last project.

In related news, the papers are due by 9pm tonight. 7-9 on a Saturday is a horrible time to have a final.


---

The waiting also continues on the job front. I've heard back from a couple of places (rejections). I'll perhaps keep you updated. I'll perhaps not, as I don't think it appropriate to put all my job search information out here on a non-anonymous blog. One, it's respect for the system. Two, it's just covering my own butt.

---

The final waiting is for holiday visits to family back in the Midwest. We leave on Monday and return the 29th. I may blog during that time, but don't be surprised if you don't hear from me again until a year-end wrapup.

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

a priest, a minister, and a rabbi

I've been on Indiefeed's Performance Poetry podcast twice before today, once with a creepy piece, once with a slow and philosophical one. I decided to do what I usually do, which is present another side to my work*, and sent Mongo a couple of funny poems from my feature at the Cantab. Both pieces will be featured on the podcast, and today it's "a priest, a minister, and a rabbi." I just really wanted to begin a performance piece with a joke, and this particular joke gave me a lot of room to be creative. It's a short piece, under two minutes, and the whole track only lasts about five, so this is a good one if you just want a quick jolt of kinda-funny-kinda-thoughtful.



*Most poets I know work at a particular style until they feel they've mastered it. I'm somewhat unusual in that I'm always trying on different styles and techniques. My page poetry ranges from concrete to free verse, formal to experimental. My performance pieces are quiet, loud, funny, dead-serious, political, everyday, theatrical, restrained. You can find threads amongst all my stuff, but you'll never mistake one poem for another. Since I'd already done two serious pieces, it was time to give another side.

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Journals

So if one were to come into some holiday spending money for oneself, to which literary journals would one subscribe? Oh, forget the "one," stuff, I want to hear from you. Yeah, you.

If you could pick five literary journals, preferably ones that include poetry, which would they be and why? For a great editorial vision? For excellent special issues? For the articles? What are the must-haves for Post(modern or avant or office or whatever)? For more conservative poetry?

I give not a rat's ass about reputation. I stuck with Poetry for several years based on reputation back in college and was disappointed on a monthly basis (it may be better now with the editorial change, but I haven't gone back to it to find out). Let me know which ones actually impress you, press into you, leave some kind of mark.

Sunday, December 6, 2009

Poem in 45 Parts

At NorthBEAST this weekend, I noticed a growing subgenre of performance poems in multiple parts. Six parts. Nineteen parts. Sometimes indicated by actually saying the number out loud (more common with greater numbers) or by indicating silently with a hand count (more common with smaller numbers). In the hour between the end of my workshop, Beginning with the Body, and the open mic, I decided to go to the extreme end of one of these poems in parts. I'll post the poem first, then a few thoughts on the creation thereof. Incidentally, the numbers should be read aloud, with almost no break between the number and the text that follows.

Poem in 45 Parts

1. In 3rd grade you made a mosaic.
2. It was supposed to be a fish.
3. It looked like a fish exposed to Chernobyl.
4. Seven years later you made a lamp in art class.
5. It didn't work.
6. Four years later you met me.
7. We kissed.
8. You tasted like ash.
9. You made a vase.
10. There were no flowers in it.
11. You made an ashtray.
12. It worked.
13. I fixed the lamp.
14. You said your lungs felt like Chernobyl just before it melted down.
15. You only showed me the fish once.
16. Two years later we moved in together.
17. I put flowers in the vase.
18. I realized I was the only one who ever turned on the lamp.
19. I asked you why a fish.
20. You said you mistook pieces for Pisces.
21. This was not the first lie.
22. This was not the first truth.
23. I forgot to turn the lamp on.
24. You didn't notice.
25. You didn't empty the vase.
26. Nor the ashtray.
27. I asked you why you left them full.
28. You said you mistook full for fool.
29. I asked.
30. You said you mistook ask for ash.
31. I asked.
32. You said you were having a meltdown.
33. You said you mistook born for broken.
34. You said you were drowning.
35. I replaced the flowers.
36. You threw the vase out the window.
37. You threw the ashtray.
38. You threw the lamp.
39. You threw the fish.
40. I looked at them shattered in the street.
41. I said you mistook me.
42. I said I was never trying to fix you.
43. This was not the first lie.
44. This was not the first truth.
45. I said I was just trying to keep track of the pieces.

If I was going to dive into a poem in multiple parts, I had several major considerations. First and foremost, there had to be a reason to divide this thing up. In this case, I came up with the first and last images first. Coming up with some kind of emotional fracturing would add a new layer to the idea of pieces. I wanted to keep with the mosaic concept, individual bits that resemble each other but bounce around so as to actually justify division into so many parts. Thus the jumping ahead in years and so forth. Secondly, I wanted to keep the language simple. If there were to be this many parts, then the structure itself should be the complex part, and the individual moments simple (a concession to a listening audience, since this is meant to be read aloud).

I'm not explaining this particularly well. Read it out loud to yourself as a somewhat brisk pace. It'll fall into line best that way.