==[piecemeal poems from Spring 2024]==
As part of this website project, I wanted it to be a place to centrally have most of my art that I've been doing since getting back into it, so below is a largely non-ordered archive of the poems I wrote prior to starting the salvage poetry project I'm still undertaking.
The "untitled alphabetic" poems were composed using some magnetic letters I found on a whiteboard in one of my classes.
“untitled alphabetic 1”
Dangerously, we hunt quails
Movie rot quiz
“untitled alphabetic 2”
Loom bedside-like:
A quartz clock quest
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The "cat's cradle;" and "station eleven;" poems were composed using words pruned from the respective texts (Cat's Cradleby Kurt Vonnegut and Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel). These texts had been assigned as [] reading for a Senior seminar English class I was in at the time (on Apocalyse literature). I couldn't get into either of them that much (though I read bits of both of their beginnings). To supplant a lack of class participation (while still engaging with the texts), I pursued the process of writing these poems.
The following is what I wrote to describe the text and context of these poems when I submitted them to a literary magazine last year:
"Each poem / poem collection is something of a collage from two of the books we read in my Apocalypse class. That is, each line in each poem / sub-poem is made only of words pulled from semi-randomly chosen paragraphs from semi-randomly chosen pages. Each stanza will be pulling lines from the same page in the book and each line will be pulling words from the same paragraph. For Cat's Cradle, I did a semi-random selection of the available paragraphs on the given page when choosing which paragraph to write lines from. For Station Eleven, I used every paragraph on the chosen page, going sequentially from top to bottom.
"I say all of this to explain both what you are looking at and why the names of the poems / sub-poems are formatted the way that they are. The names for the Station Eleven poems / sub-poems indicate which page I am pulling that poem / sub-poem from. The names for Cat's Cradle are a little bit more complex. The format for these corresponds to an alphanumeric key: A / a = 1 ; B / b = 2 ; etc. The uppercase letter will indicate which page the stanza is pulling from and the lowercase letters indicate which number paragraphs from that page are being used. The one complication here is that the uppercase letters have an additional level of translation at work. The decoded numeric digits correspond to which number of the Fibonacci sequence the page is. (I'm starting with n=1, not n=0). This doesn't matter that much, being used mostly as a way for me to get a varied range of numbers that span from 1 2 and 3 digits.
"Although I have split pages into different poems, I think the poems for each book function well enough as single, concatenated poems (that is, one poem for each book). With that said, again, you can choose to format the poems however you want. You can choose to swap around any of the poems / sub-poems / stanzas too. Similarly, I leave it to you to include / exclude any of the poems / sub-poems, I readily realize that what I have thrown at you has ended up quite lengthy."
...
“cat’s cradle; M cegb; F ad; G bd”
Cult beauty—a cold fact, or
Eyes are lover’s like oysters.
Tell the young today, “you are spoken.”
Female represent[s] form.
To which: from a letter
Outside my father’s New York.
A fresh daisy. A lousy week. I don’t sleep.
I admire. Many times I really admire (hurt)
“cat’s cradle 2; I bcd; D abc; E adcgh”
And—and—and—the atom bomb gurgled.
Mother shook her head that day,
“he used to [be] an eight-year-old”
It is an amoeba.
Sing to his fifty-third
Machine—same people; so dark together.
God screamed when she saw worm sailboats,
I mean, what Earth, I mean, what Earth.
4 of a —
This warning:
How unable. How anyone. To understand
“cat’s cradle 3; C adbcef; B cdhe; A abgj”
I am now
NiCE—very nice,
But teach anyone the unknown
Of books
No. Somebody else’s tangled life
Is called humanity. Will without instrument
This plan compelled a second place
Listen:
The first day was done.
250,000 wives of man
The world
Called me they.
Be factual
I was a book.
“cat’s cradle 4; H; J; K; L”
Nothing says easy like /s/
A[n] almost member.
Thus, my early entry into
Said understand[ing]
Um
The building had been
Um
Had been building
The last frontier of twenty-eight years.
I scared the poor people enough..
Think and you will be better
To know. And ignorant to common sense
Pain him again
Pain his eyes closed
But not for it to
Go strangling. The words cried. He cried.
In grotesque face /d/
That loudly wasn’t dead
“the mountain birds”
Years fly and promise age
Confident; heads with gray ease
Thousands softly; our turn
“station eleven; (3)-225”
Tomorrow, a forgotten sore throat;
Elevators empty his gaze and
Leave. Leave no way
Out, a book on flight.
“station eleven; (3)-23”
Pushing was ... you ... are
Disconnected meat and felt-paper tape
Glancing on autopilot at the store television
With insomnia eye (making)
Over his “where you are” card
You are the news
Be
Serious
About wherever
You look in time
And exit already
“station eleven; (3)-196”
Winter remember[s] hot light,
Used space,
And this (not just cold)
Light inside.
“station eleven; (3)-84”
Moving silent like undersea eyes to a seahorse,
She sees a voice call,
“Eight.
People”
Around eleven winds: a nemesis
Trying to view a bad practice
An(d) entire day
Of talked about downtime
And “you do you.”
A not sure tone, she doesn’t time why.
“station eleven; (3)-123”
Leave the sorry girl
Leave why
The prophet said
“You [are]”
Choice the going now
Her arms, standing by her eyes, rubbing
More
Gas
In the station
The clean girl
Eleanor
You are Eleanor
Twelve
Why twelve-year-old?
God was told he was the Earth
Like all dreams said
“If always was a thought in motion,
The direction
—” Dead.
Sorry.
You were
The girl, her head
Told you. You.
She she.
Did know “AND” “AND.”
“station eleven; 17”
A pocket of time vibrated out in the snow
Hours of years they rarely saw
A peculiar intensity
Tonight
Just three temporary years
Of “okay
the day had been”
A patient exhaustion with symptoms
The first friends
“station eleven; 202”
An invisible dream of dentists,
Where eyes swayed in invented breeze
/h/ And teeth drifted up
to galaxies of gray planets
like books
like thinking
a universe [of] she
you
we—
spinning anyway, the live world
think[s] it’s beautiful
but it isn’t night
“station eleven; 208”
Existence stopped trying and
Thought-said to her mirror you look like a stranger
Covered in familiarity and dark clear beauty
She liked herself but felt outside
Of her head that parasite
That forgot her name
“station eleven; 102”
Take a
Name
Chaudhary
You for me
Here
Again
A so so cigarette
Here
Always
Time
Three three three maybe thirty
Why’s
Because
Eyes
Hear me too
No you
Gossip
Gossip pays
For what
Beauty
Like you
I
She tears
He fits (basic)
::about poetry::
If I get time in the future, I would like explain some of these, as there are within this sea of text some number of poems connected to each other in various ways. For example (at what's currently near the bottom of the page) there's the poems from my encounter with the books Cat's Cradle and station eleven. While the methodology for these is technically divergent from what I'm doing with the Salvage Poetry project, there's a concerted genealogy connecting the two. Again, if I find time in the future I'd like to speak more to this.
Back to main [poetry] page.
hi :3 you reached the end of the page