We've already established that our new Kasen will focus on Travel. Here are other possible ideas:
1) No mention of actual modes of transportation (no cars, buses, planes, rollerblades, etc.)
2) Every 3rd verse should reference/allude to/name some point of origin or destination (whether physical, geographical, psychological, imaginary, emotional, or other)
Any other rules that we should consider?
"Poetry comes at things through particulars, by means of images, and it doesn't deal so easily with generalities. Its mode is to cherish without limit. You could say it is idolatrous art. Some poems, the great poems, are true to their specific situations deep down, but they also have a universal quality that lets them live again and again, even in apparently unrelated circumstances." -Galway Kinnell
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Completed Kasen: Idolatrous Art
A sketch from your window
six syllables, page to screen--
let's be each other's guest
Strands of that elegiac grace
we never possessed
A whole rain of signs
falls and by morning--sunshine
avoid such places
The man had been hanging
friends thought he was doing an art piece
and other poems
Reimagined, the world expands
language is not something static
Just waiting for
my power to be recognized--
lighten our darkness
One word, whose word, could be said
perhaps blend of "fray" and "fazzle"
One comes to language
from afar, the ear ponders,
swishes into town
Try it, or better, try a ladder--
rise in the present
Those rungs are unsafe
that tongue that was used
altered at an end
You will have no companion
but the heap of your words
Warm hands at never
extinguished fires of scholar-
ship, blazing
Feast on the leaves
of trampled sentences
Finally I have succeeded
in telling the truth. Whatever...
better than the past
What good does it do to bombard
chaos? The loss of certainty!
The orphan limb, a felt
recovery--its tenuous kinship
making the music social as well
As she gave birth, she screamed out
that all who heard that scream would suffer...
These were all the crimes --
even citing the poetry
it sounds absurd
A tedious argument,
an overwhelming question
Like a green girl
in a nutshell
count myself a king
:painted upon the walls: a man,
a dog was a dog, and a circle was sun
The rust freckled barbed
wire, keeping out no one,
thick as thirst
To grow famous, and his family rich...
all the world turns when he spins
Try to account to know
express to know
to account to try
The self as given is in-
adequate and will not do
Look: he has not turned,
has tears in his eyes; no more
let them be well used
Asia on the one side
Africa on the other
This specular structure
this is my letter
a form of contact
A large bird who was trying
to regain some sense of beauty
He begins with the chase of--
the deer or the wild goat?
Out of whose horns was the bow made?
Realize every minute--
no, saints and poets maybe
Havana in hurricane
iron, bongoseros
green dream in rhythm
The names of flowers
pot-holed streets, sluggish gutters--
they cleared a space and
Give it new names: breasts of God
left out to catch the dew
Then the self is lost
in Nebraska
flashflood storms
She walks in beauty, like night,
at peace with all below
(Completed Aug. 2008 by JS, HT, SZ)
six syllables, page to screen--
let's be each other's guest
Strands of that elegiac grace
we never possessed
A whole rain of signs
falls and by morning--sunshine
avoid such places
The man had been hanging
friends thought he was doing an art piece
and other poems
Reimagined, the world expands
language is not something static
Just waiting for
my power to be recognized--
lighten our darkness
One word, whose word, could be said
perhaps blend of "fray" and "fazzle"
One comes to language
from afar, the ear ponders,
swishes into town
Try it, or better, try a ladder--
rise in the present
Those rungs are unsafe
that tongue that was used
altered at an end
You will have no companion
but the heap of your words
Warm hands at never
extinguished fires of scholar-
ship, blazing
Feast on the leaves
of trampled sentences
Finally I have succeeded
in telling the truth. Whatever...
better than the past
What good does it do to bombard
chaos? The loss of certainty!
The orphan limb, a felt
recovery--its tenuous kinship
making the music social as well
As she gave birth, she screamed out
that all who heard that scream would suffer...
These were all the crimes --
even citing the poetry
it sounds absurd
A tedious argument,
an overwhelming question
Like a green girl
in a nutshell
count myself a king
:painted upon the walls: a man,
a dog was a dog, and a circle was sun
The rust freckled barbed
wire, keeping out no one,
thick as thirst
To grow famous, and his family rich...
all the world turns when he spins
Try to account to know
express to know
to account to try
The self as given is in-
adequate and will not do
Look: he has not turned,
has tears in his eyes; no more
let them be well used
Asia on the one side
Africa on the other
This specular structure
this is my letter
a form of contact
A large bird who was trying
to regain some sense of beauty
He begins with the chase of--
the deer or the wild goat?
Out of whose horns was the bow made?
Realize every minute--
no, saints and poets maybe
Havana in hurricane
iron, bongoseros
green dream in rhythm
The names of flowers
pot-holed streets, sluggish gutters--
they cleared a space and
Give it new names: breasts of God
left out to catch the dew
Then the self is lost
in Nebraska
flashflood storms
She walks in beauty, like night,
at peace with all below
(Completed Aug. 2008 by JS, HT, SZ)
Monday, August 11, 2008
Monday, August 04, 2008
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