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.
Words have multiple meanings. Meanings have multiple words. I think of wordblocks as a single-word stand-in to express multiple meanings, or an ambiguity of meanings.
Stare at a word until the letters start to discorporate. You will find that letter cohesion, the letter glue that keeps letters stuck inside a word, is disrupted and dissolves.
You can start with any piece of junk mail or advertising, or any legal document or bureaucratic form (it’s tax time!). Choose a few sentences. Remove the nouns. Replace them.
“For my contribution, I wanted to combine some of my favorite things: old books in the public domain, subject headings, and chance.”