Thursday, April 30, 2009

Front, Right: More e.e. cummings

I told you guys I fucking loved this guy, right?


This is, by far, my favorite poem of all time.

Again, the structure. Can't you just see it? Feel it? Be it?

1. one. a leaf falls. loneliness.
Me. That's all.

I could cry, every time.

Front, Left: Kurt Vonnegut from Slaughterhouse Five

Okay, this technically isn't a poem at all. But I had the most difficult time trying to choose a poem for this pocket. Though it's the third I'm posting, it was the last picked.

I really wanted to pick a woman as my pockets seemed to be stuffed by men. But using sex as a requirement didn't seem fair to my pockets or to the poems. My front pockets are feeling vulnerable and important. It couldn't just be any old poem.

And these two lines from Slaughterhouse Five express a sad, yet beautiful side of my vulnerability. These lines are the way in which I protect myself from you.

Everything was Beautiful
And Nothing Hurt

Back, Right: in Just- e.e. cummings

in Just-
spring when the world is mud-
luscious the little lame baloonman
whistles far and wee
and eddyandbill come
running from marbles and
piracies and it's

when the world is puddle-wonderful
the queer
old baloonman whistles
far and wee
and bettyandisbel come dancing
from hop-scotch and jump-rope and

baloonMan whistles

I love e.e. cummings. I LOVE e.e. cummings. I don't think that I can express that more clearly. I fucking love him.

I love his words.
I love his structure.
I love the way he plays with my brain.

What better poem for my back, right pocket when spring has finally come to us? The trees are a-bloomin' and the New York City streets are a-buzzin'. And I'm standing in Union Square Park, the sun is shining, the pollen is making everything sort of hazy, sort of dreamy, and I lean on my right hip, tucking my right hand in my back pocket, content in watching the people walk up and down, up and down, with their little french bulldogs. "in Just - / spring"

Back, Left: Proclamation without Pretension - Tristan Tzara

Art is going to sleep for a new world to be born
"ART"-parrot word-replaced by DADA,
PLESIOSAURUS, or handkerchief

The talent THAT CAN BE LEARNED makes the
poet a druggist TODAY the criticism
of balances no longer challenges with resemblances

Hypertrophic painters hyperaes-
theticized and hypnotized by the hyacinths
of the hypocritical-looking muezzins


Hypodrome of immortal guarantees: there is
no such thing as importance there is no transparence
or appearance

BLIND MEN take the stage

THE SYRINGE is only for my understanding. I write because it is
natural exactly the way I piss the way I'm sick


Art is a PRETENSION warmed by the
TIMIDITY of the urinary basin, the hysteria born

We are in search of
the force that is direct pure sober
UNIQUE we are in search of NOTHING
we affirm the VITALITY of every IN-

the anti-philosophy of spontaneous acrobatics

At this moment I hate the man who whispers
before the intermission-eau de cologne-
sour theatre. THE JOYOUS WIND

If each man says the opposite it is because he is

Get ready for the action of the geyser of our blood
-submarine formation of transchromatic aero-
planes, cellular metals numbered in
the flight of images

above the rules of the
and its control


It is not for the sawed-off imps
who still worship their navel

I found Tristan Tzara a long time ago - this poem in particular. And it moved me, particularly 'above the rules of the / and its control / BEAUTIFUL', so much. I place this poem in my back, left pocket because of the raw, sexy, satirical power of this poem. Because I see you slipping your right hand into my back left pocket. And I know what it's doing there.

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Poem in Your Pocket Day - April 30th

As I twittered earlier today, my mother sent a text to my phone to let me know -

"Tomorrow is National Poem in Your Pocket Day. Stuff your pockets accordingly."
I answered - "I'm really going to stuff my pockets with poems tomorrow."
She said - "I know."

Which poems. Which pockets.

This is what I've been thinking about all day. And I think I have the answers. Four poems for my four pockets, the placement nearly as important as the poem.

Four pockets. Four poems. Four posts. Four / thirty.


Beautiful Creatures - Kami Garcia, Margaret Stohl

Rating: 3 stars
Shelf: Now Reading

Review: Soon to the join the ranks of great paranormal teen romance novels - it's similarity to novels like 'Twilight' and the 'Wicked' (Witch, Curse...) series is why you'll like it. What sets it apart is its very 'Crucible' theme, as we watch Lena and Ethan struggle not only with the uncertainty of Lena's future, but with inequality as they discover that being a part of Lena's family means facing endless ridicule.

Purchase Now from Amazon: Beautiful Creatures (Beautiful Creatures, Book 1)
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