I am surrounded in the moment of research, I am already questioning what it will mean & how I can parse it out when I decide it is time to sit down and write.
I keep a document where I paste snippets and their sources that could be useful for found poems. Travel websites have always intrigued me with their language—visual, lush, and sometimes a bit dramatic and naive.
Collect found language from individuals who articulate how they feel, specifically, in their bodies…physical symptoms in the body (neck, head, stomach, feet, etc).
This exercise engages two things that I really love – a pseudo-scientific system of meaning and found archetypal language.
First, choose a text by another writer. This can be anything from a Victorian novel to a field guide, an epic poem, a Shakespeare play, or a computer manual. Read through it carefully and consider the following question: What has been buried in so much other language?
When picking up an old book, I can’t help but feel it is alive and that it has a secret message for me. While such beliefs will most likely lead me to wearing a tinfoil hat and living in the bushes by the library, for the present I purge my uncontrolled animism by letting old books speak through erasure poetry.
Write something you cannot remember. My hope is that my work will challenge the reader to rethink—both emotionally and intellectually—our relationships to what we believe we know.
write a cento that is a self-portrait, or anthology of your life, utilizing lines and fragments from your own work. Or, alternatively, create a “self-portrait” cento using lines and fragments.
When I was about twenty, I remember sitting in my room one night, annoyed with something my housemates were up to, and a bit…
I’m overall very interested in forms–sticking to them, breaking them, and creating them. I like thinking about what content calls for a significant break in a form, what calls for a new form completely. I like how form can call for interaction.