I got the final proof copy of Saints & Cannibals! It looks great -- I am so excited.

Just discovered For Every Year. Really wonderful way of thinking/writing about the past.

Artifice Magazine has a great wishlist that doubles as poetry prompts. Try some of them out!

Late Burial

the small sound of an old radio, some music, words I
don't understand, a nostalgic howl with lots of brass
and acoustic guitar

The scene where the car is buried by snow, all the cars
are buried in snow, the road just a faint dent

the phone ringing, going to voice mail, the phone ringing
in someone's jacket pocket, the jacket buried in a pile
of jackets at a party

the rip along your cheek, badly sewn, a scar like a series
of faint pale staples, it was a motorcycle, you say,
or a drunk ex, you don't quite remember

the leather jacket hanging from a hook on a door,
the lining reeks armpit, vanilla perfume, sick cat,
ripped inside the pocket

the wind makes a small sound, rattles snow from beech
branches, the houses across the street suddenly veiled,
the man scraping with a shovel pauses and shakes off his hat

Since you asked, here's the technique I used for that last poem.

It was actually the combination of two techniques I learned in Kaminsky's class. One was: make a list of 10 random/strange questions, and then, at another time, without looking at the questions, make ten bizarre/strange answers or statements. Then see if you can match the answers and questions up in any way.

The second, pick your favorite lines from your old poems, and save them and use them in your new poems. I took 20 poems from 2001-2004 and picked my favorite line and put them in a 5 page document -- in random order. I added a few questions and statements, but not right next to each other. Then I picked lines that had similar images or tone, and that made about two pages. Then I slimmed it down to one page, and changed the pronouns and tenses so that it seemed more coherent. I added one new line and switched the lines/sections around a lot and voila! new poem.

Why Are You Constantly


it's hard to see the screen with all these ghosts\the sea anemones
make a kissing sound when they let go of your fingers

Pigeon. Seagull. Pigeon. Robin.

arms the color of pickled pigs in a jar
threatening to jump off a window ledge into a tidal pool
your smile constantly erases itself

hair wafts into my eyes, sticks to my lipstick
the wind as your green curtains skim the ceiling

is that a paw or hoof on my face/is that a burlap
sack or boat on my windowsill

so hot you sit on the floor and pant, dog-like
your psychiatrist is afraid and asks me to sit next to him

Seagull. Grackle. Doorknob.

boiling water seeps through an orange pekoe teabag
on the walls, squares of bright yellow where photos of flowers and elephants hung

the hum of flies, shadows or burn marks in your bedroom
the newspaper lining your cage

my thumb smoothing your eyebrows the color of commas
the negative space of your forehead

why are you constantly comparing everything
to animals/ you ask me



----

So I finally followed one of Ilya's suggestions and did a poem. Perhaps I should say "wrote"? Anyway, let me know what you think about the last line -- should I cut out, you asked me?

Also, does the title work?

If you're interested, I'll let you know the technique I used to make this.