3:15 AM
sweat seeps off
my body in the shape
of your eyes
you gape at me
i shiver
Exercise #1
pick a word
it can be any word
a common one is best
say ego: then say ego, ego, ego,
not too fast, not too slow
a sixty cycle rate should do
until ego doesn’t mean ego
anymore
ego
doesn’t mean anything anymore
it has become a sound
two sounds
a long vowel and a short consonant vowel
combination
this is called Semantic Satiation
make a commitment
do at least twenty words a day
Exercise #2
when you have a little time
stand in the mirror
and look at your face
start with a dim light say 25 watts
do not look for defects
too fat too thin
to wrinkled
do not smile and do not
show your teeth
keep looking until you begin to lose
the attachment
to the reflection as being your face
keep looking until you lose
the sense
that the reflection is anyone’s face
in particular
it is a distorted face shifting in identity
but hang on
work up to full brightness
this is called derealization/depersonalization
it does run the risk
of becoming permanent
like crossing your eyes in a thunderstorm
Exercise #3
if you work hard on perfecting these techniques
you may be able to enjoy
prolonged periods
of moving through the world as no one
saying words
unburdened by trying to make them anything
but sounds you learned
as a baby
this is called being a baby
or being
a totally new thing unto itself
Exercise #5
now sit down at your computer
stare at the keyboard
not at each letter and figure
but the visual gestalt
of white on black
if you are an experienced typist
use only two fingers
and visa versa
begin to type
plausible sentence and paragraph structures
with no syntax and no story and no grammar
except for periods
use only geographic imagination
to guide your fingers
this is called
hypertextual metapoetic incongruous fixity
Finale
practice all these techniques
preferably while groveling at the feet
of a master who does yoga and zen
and has been in therapy for decades
in a few years
of this kind of intense work in destabilizing
the very essence of language
your poetry will grind like pure number theory
in a Bible Study
you will be ready to submit
your work
many places heretofore beyond your reach
to The Gettysburg Review
to Poetry
to The New Yorker!
I’m startled until I see/read
title page from printer clutched
in his twelve-year-old fist.
How do I explain/define
a term I only learned
when I was twelve?
Did not know/understand
it had a name; that it
happened to other girls.
He’s so much younger/innocent
than I ever was, a fact of triumph
in my maternity.
Instead, I changed/edited
title to no longer read, incest
to avoid answering.
her nest… a vestible of splendor
rests its minuscule circle of soft flora
quietly upon a pedestal with demure.
two white receptacles lie demure
awaiting their entrance into life’s splendor,
waking to their mama and the attar of flora
leaning against surrounding flora
in their downy demure
longing for their first flight of splendor.
and now departing wings know splendor across kentucky flora with open demure.
but
a room with a balcony.
I won’t be bounded
within a ceiling, floor, four walls,
tamed.
I imagine a French door
glide over Italian tile lean
over the rail and know
the world is listening.
I trill words, notes no bird
has ever dreamed
dance around potted pansies
tickle the arborvitae.
Pausing when the hummingbird
preens on the wet holly leaf, shiny
as a mirror, I reach for its red
throat, pulsing.
so they will walk into the room”
they’ve never seen before but room begs
my entrance baby baby it says won’t you please
come in more of a statement than a question i’ve heard it
several times but resisted without any qualms walls
i can’t see through and there are no windows
trust me it says which is reason enough to not trust
(i’ve heard that somewhere and it rings true)
room whistles for my legs but they don’t obey
they fold under my body hiding
facia of my body hears the siren’s song
and tugs at my curious muscles which tremble
with joy at the possibilities beyond but
be safe my heart says be safe
don’t go inside there is no end to the trouble
you will find but i look down the hall
and see where i’ve come from
and up the hall and see only more of the same
stand up i say stand up
now bend over let your heart spill out over your head
and warmth touches my core
as i rise the blood (imagine
“[t]he blisters//it would leave”
if i held all this in my hands)
runs down into legs warms the sole
of my feet just enough
to enter that room.
quotes from “Echo” by Alexandra Umlas, found at http://southeastreview.org/30-day-writers-regimen/congrats-to-our-february-writers-regimen-winner/
I’m selfish
when I call you
beautiful,
smart,
funny, and
sexy
in that order.
Physical compliments
as book ends to your personality, because
I’m selfish
and want you to know
I care about your looks
but not just your looks.
I’m selfish
when I don’t wake you up
before work
so you can get more sleep
and I can write
without taking from our
‘together time’.
I’m selfish
when I buy fast food
instead of making you cook
because my cooking sucks
compared to yours.
I’m selfish
because I think about you
and worry too much that I can’t possibly
be your best person,
that you’ll find someone else
and see through my ruse, see that
I’m selfish
because I’m afraid
there’ll come a day
when I want you
more than you want me,
and I’m bad at letting go,
too clingy,
too bratty,
too selfish.
Unintentionally left behind
by my drug-addled cohorts,
I was picked up by a patrol of
well-intentioned Christian Soldiers
and accepted into their company.
Not really cut out for
The Church Militant,
I gradually deserted
the Salvation army
and under cover of night
stole one of the boats
they were always
afraid of missing.
Over the years I’ve thrown
overboard some Doctrines
I found to be seriously
weighing down the boat.
And though the sail of my faith
has been torn in some places
it keeps growing larger with time.
I’ve learned how to make
the best use of winds from
any and all directions,
trusting the Windblower
to take me wherever it is
I’m supposed to go.
you release your foothold, the heavy longing
crouch, hoist skyward. Your density lessens
stretched transparent as light
blood coalesces in your center
your body gathers into a circle
the shape, the space within
joy’s intimate dance
the measure of beauty, belief
~ Found poem composed/modified from words in the poem “City of Light” by Lee Sharkey
