Hey folks
I am not going to go on and on here about the amazon.com thing. I am going to mention it, briefly — DO NOT USE AMAZON ON ACCOUNT OF HOW THEY ARE HOMOPHOBIC AND TRANSPHOBIC AND SEX POSITIVE PHOBIC — which I have been telling everyone for years…
Okay. All done.
I like the idea of having a regular feature here. Like movies on Friday. I think Monday would be a good day for poetry — get the brain going, see what sparks fly…
Plus then I can share my favorite poems with you as I find them. Lucky you.
First though, I want to share my happies that we finally got some flowers in the front garden box that we put in MONTHS ago. I will post a picture later. And we finally put up a pole system in back for the birdfeeders. So far the birds are mildly perplexed. Poor birds. Squirrels seem happy though.
Anyway. Today’s poem:
Mastering the Art of Poetry”
by Daphne Gottlieb (from Why Things Burn)
make sure you have everything
you will need
on hand:
pen paper or computer keyboard
dictionary thesaurus scissors (surgical)
tape first-aid kit plastic wrap
feathers candles clothespins
gag rope handcuffs
an assortment of whips
from fat thudding floggers
to bitey braided cats
maybe a wooden paddle
rubbing alcohol
piercing sharps
scalpel
a cane or two
and a riding crop.
got everything?
good.
negotiate,
negotiate,
negotiate.
if you want your poem to beg or struggle,
make that clear.
listen to your poem’s desires
and get ready
to be powerful and terrible.
your poem is quivering in front of you
and your iron will
as it kisses the collar you hold.
begin.
start
slowly,
gradually.
maybe a little stroking, teasing pinches, a few
words chosen
carefully
go a long way.
now escalate.
if you’ve started with your
gentlest, sweetest metaphor,
it’s time to build up to something a little
harder.
feel it? your poem opening up, reeling,
writhing, relinquishing control?
good.
take it right to the edge of what it can stand
then back off
then right to the edge
and back off again
up to a farther edge
as your poem swells
with the marks you leave on its skin
one thank you master
two thank you master
three thank you master
as you push it, drag it, hold it down
raise it up
THANK YOU MASTER
tell your poem
“you’re about to get a verb you’ll never forget, you little slut.”
tell your poem,
“I want to hear you scream.”
tell your poem,
“you only get forty more words, you greedy bitch!”
and when it has taken all it can bear
hold that precious poem close
show it how much it has pleased you
and rest. give it your name
and kiss it
goodnight.
