"Man Writes Poem"

I found this today on Moleskinerie and I must say that I am in love with this poem- I think it is wondermous.

“Man Writes Poem,” by Jay Leeming

This just in a man has begun writing a poem
in a small room in Brooklyn. His curtains
are apparently blowing in the breeze. We go now
to our man Harry on the scene, what’s

the story down there Harry? “Well Chuck
he has begun the second stanza and seems
to be doing fine, he’s using a blue pen, most
poets these days use blue or black ink so blue

is a fine choice. His curtains are indeed blowing
in a breeze of some kind and what’s more his radiator
is ‘whistling’ somewhat. No metaphors have been written yet,
but I’m sure he’s rummaging around down there

in the tin cans of his soul and will turn up something
for us soon. Hang on—just breaking news here Chuck,
there are ‘birds singing’ outside his window, and a car
with a bad muffler has just gone by. Yes … definitely

a confirmation on the singing birds.” Excuse me Harry
but the poem seems to be taking on a very auditory quality
at this point wouldn’t you say? “Yes Chuck, you’re right,
but after years of experience I would hesitate to predict

exactly where this poem is going to go. Why I remember
being on the scene with Frost in ’47, and with Stevens in ’53,
and if there’s one thing about poems these days it’s that
hang on, something’s happening here, he’s just compared the curtains

to his mother, and he’s described the radiator as ‘Roaring deep
with the red walrus of History.’ Now that’s a key line,
especially appearing here, somewhat late in the poem,
when all of the similes are about to go home. In fact he seems

a bit knocked out with the effort of writing that line,
and who wouldn’t be? Looks like … yes, he’s put down his pen
and has gone to brush his teeth. Back to you Chuck.” Well
thanks Harry. Wow, the life of the artist. That’s it for now,

but we’ll keep you informed of more details as they arise

Visit his website

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Why I teach…

Thinking this morning of why I like teaching and the poem My IQ, by Ani Difranco came to mind… and it, in so many ways, says it all.

My IQ
when i was 4 years old they
tried to test my i.q.
they showed me this picture
of 3 oranges and a pear
they asked me which one
is different and does not
belong
they taught me different
is wrong
but when i was 13 years old
i woke up one morning
thighs covered in blood
like a war like a warning
that i live in a breakable
takable body
an ever-increasingly valuable
body
that a woman had come
in the night
to replace me
deface me
see…
my body is borrowed
yeah i got it on loan
for the time in between
my mom and some maggots
i don’t need anyone to
hold me i can
hold my own
i got highways for stretch marks
see where i’ve grown
i sing sometimes
like my life is at stake
’cause you’re only as loud
as the noises you make
i’m learning to laugh
as loud as i can listen
’cause silence is violence
in women and poor people
if more people were screaming
then i could relax
but a good brain ain’t diddly
if you don’t have the facts
we live in a breakable
takable world
an ever available possible
world
and we can make music
like we can make do
genius is in a backbeat
backseat to nothing
if you’re dancing
especially something
stupid like i.q.
for every lie i unlearn
i learn something new
i sing sometimes for
the war that i fight
’cause every tool is a
weapon
if you hold it
right

© 1993 ani difranco / righteous babe music

Life Inside the Music Box

all torn up

Music Box- by Regina Spektor
Life inside the music box ain't easy.
The mallets hit the gears are always turning
and everyone inside the mechanism
is yearning to get out.
And sing another melody completely
So different from the one they're always singing
I close my eyes and think that I have found me
but then I feel mortality surround me.
I want to sing another melody
so different from the one I always sing
But when I do the dishes
I run the water very very very hot
and then I fill the sink to the top with bubbles of soap
and then I send all the bottle caps I own a float
and its the greatest voyage in the history of plastic
and then I slip my hands in and start to make waves
and then I dip my tongue in and take a taste
it tastes like soap but it doesn't really taste like soap
and then I lower in my whole mouth in and take a gulp
and start to feel mortality surround me
I close my eyes and think I've found me
but life inside the music box ain't easy
the mallets hit the gears are always turning
and everyone inside the mechanism
is yearning
to get out
and sing another melody completely
is yearning
to get out
is yearning
to get out
is yearning
to get out

A reminder…

Resistance
My I.Q. by ani difranco
when I was four years old
they tried to test my I.Q.
they showed me a picture
of 3 oranges and a pear
they said,
which one is different?
it does not belong
they taught me different is wrong
but when I was 13 years old
I woke up one morning
thighs covered in blood
like a war
like a warning
that I live in a breakable takeable body
an ever-increasingly valuable body
that a woman had come in the night to replace me
deface me
see,
my body is borrowed
yeah, I got it on loan
for the time in between my mom and some maggots
I don’t need anyone to hold me
I can hold my own
I got highways for stretchmarks
see where I’ve grown
I sing sometimes
like my life is at stake
’cause you’re only as loud
as the noises you make
I’m learning to laugh as hard
as I can listen
’cause silence
is violence
in women and poor people
if more people were screaming then I could relax
but a good brain ain’t diddley
if you don’t have the facts
we live in a breakable takeable world
an ever available possible world
and we can make music
like we can make do
genius is in a back beat
backseat to nothing if you’re dancing
especially something stupid
like I.Q.
for every lie I unlearn
I learn something new
I sing sometimes for the war that I fight
’cause every tool is a weapon –
if you hold it right.

since feeling is first

since feeling is first
who pays any attention
to the syntax of things
will never wholly kiss you;
wholly to be a fool
while Spring is in the world

my blood approves,
and kisses are a better fate
than wisdom
lady i swear by all flowers. Don’t cry
—the best gesture of my brain is less than
your eyelids’ flutter which says

we are for each other: then
laugh, leaning back in my arms
for life’s not a paragraph

And death i think is no parenthesis

e.e. cummings

"Songs of the Universal" and Wings in the Clouds

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One should not try to read Camus on a school night… and that is all I have to say about that. Walt Whitman on the other hand can be quite like flight.

“Songs of the Universal”



1



Come said the Muse,

Sing me a song no poet has yet chanted,

Sing me the Universal.



In this broad earth of ours,

Amid the measureless grossness and slag,

Enclosed and safe within its central heart,

Nestles the seed perfection.



By every life a share or more or less,

None born but it is born, conceal’d or unconceal’d


the seed is waiting.



Walt Whitman

if everything happens that can't be done

if everything happens that can’t be done
(and anything’s righter
than books
could plan)
the stupidest teacher will almost guess
(with a run
skip
around we go yes)
there’s nothing as something as one

one hasn’t a why or because or although
(and buds know better
than books
don’t grow)
one’s anything old being everything new
(with a what
which
around we go who)
one’s everyanything so

so world is a leaf is a tree is a bough
(and birds sing sweeter
than books
tell how)
so here is away and so your is a my
(with a down
up
around again fly)
forever was never till now

now i love you and you love me
(and books are shutter
than books
can be)
and deep in the high that does nothing but fall
(with a shout
each
around we go all)
there’s somebody calling who’s we

we’re everything brighter than even the sun
(we’re everything greater
than books

might mean)

we’re everyanything more than believe

(with a spin

leap

alive we’re alive)

we’re wonderful one times one



–e.e. cummings

e.e. cummings

if everything happens that can’t be done
(and anything’s righter
than books
could plan)
the stupidest teacher will almost guess
(with a run
skip
around we go yes)
there’s nothing as something as one

one hasn’t a why or because or although
(and buds know better
than books
don’t grow)
one’s anything old being everything new
(with a what
which
around we go who)
one’s everyanything so

so world is a leaf is a tree is a bough
(and birds sing sweeter
than books
tell how)
so here is away and so your is a my
(with a down
up
around again fly)
forever was never till now

now i love you and you love me
(and books are shutter
than books
can be)
and deep in the high that does nothing but fall
(with a shout
each
around we go all)
there’s somebody calling who’s we

we’re everything brighter than even the sun
(we’re everything greater
than books
might mean)
we’re everyanything more than believe
(with a spin
leap
alive we’re alive)
we’re wonderful one times one