Really, I am Learning So Much

Tonight, I learned how to write a poem. And not a mediocre poem (although, luckily for you, the poem I wrote is still decidedly mediocre). A deep poem. A poem so deep the bends are gotten. A poem so profound it is, well, unintelligible.

And since I am a sharer, you get to learn, too.

The Assignment: Write a Poem Using 'Found' Language

MFA Candidate Approach:

1. Select the first paragraph of a short story you have written in your 7,000 years identifying as a writer. It doesn't have to be any good. No plot is necessary. Don't worry about all that.

2. Copy and paste it into on-line translation service.

3. Turn it into a Romance Language.

4. Turn that into Japanese.

5. Then maybe German.

6. Then back to English.

7. Preferably repeat process with Swedish, etc. until it has become almost isotope-like in its instability, even in the 'bizarre and nonsensical' world of words strung together.

8. Cut and paste result into a word document.

9. Pinky-finger-tap that Return or Tab key with abandon to visually shape paragraph into a poem.

10. Make 15 copies to bring to class.

11. Pass out to colleagues. Listen as other MFA candidates focus on the power of image twisting and rhythmic vibrations. Ignore the non-MFA candidate as she attempts to quietly massage the "huh?!!!" headache throb out of her temples and replace her confusion with her happy place.

12. Receive 14 painstakingly critiqued copies back.

Example [Minus the ever-essential formatting, because I am too computer illiterate to format a poem to be justified, centered, right-justified, etc. on the blog...]

Behind the breaks
external to colleagues
to truck others, candidates
of the AMF
of her
concentrated , the vrillage
of the illustration
of the energy
the shocks
of the rhythmatics
hear itself
MFA of the candidate
as its inconsciemment
that does not try, calm, collect
them "huh?!!!"headaches
beat to the breaks
external one, his one, his handsful
its disturbance with being happy
the place I replaced.

[Total time from conception to birth: 13 minutes. Original paragraph: See #11.]

And this one actually makes comparative sense. Sorta.

What's funny is that THAT is apparently the standard way of creating a found language poem. It is almost anti-private-writers-club/egalitarian.

So I missed learning that whole technique, as usual. Maybe I was late for the previous class or something. Or maybe I missed an entire CW class prerequisite known as the MFA-Candidate Brainwashing. But, left to my own devices, I found my language from the titles of Craigslist missed connections. Because anyone who knows me knows that, true to my polyamorous nature, second to my profound love affair with the 22, I have a fatty crush on CL's MC section. I could eat that for breakfast with saag paneer and die a happy girl.

So, minus of course the actual poem layout, here's the SB-MEd-candidate approach to found language poetry writing:

1. Panic that class is coming and homework as usual as a concept has only just begun to be a scratch on the brain.

2. Take refuge in the tear-producing hilarity of the MC section of Craigslist because secretly you are a romantic of sorts.

3. Cute and paste every title from one day, preferable some morning-after weekend day, into a word document.

4. Shuffle them about for nine minutes into some internal logic mediocre poem shape before falling asleep with the computer open.

5. Wake up, wipe chin, print poem, work all day.

6. Pass out 14 copies to class.

7. Get told, "Well, this clearly is from her project rather than her found language piece, because the narrative is clear and the opening conversation purposeful in its tone."

8. Get told, "This piece is just SO reminiscent of O'Hare."

9. Wonder and eventually get to ask, "Um... who's O'Hare?"

10. Realize after saying this how interesting it is that MFA candidate eyes can both bulge and roll at the same time. [As if proving my ignorance for having grown up literarily in the equivalent of cement tubing, it has since been brought to my attention that the fellaʻs name is OʻHara.]

11. Get no feedback about image twisting and rhythmic vibrations.

12. Get passionate and diametrically opposed feedback that must have come out through an MFA candidate on-line translation machine because it is lyrical and rhythmic and makes no sense.

13. [NOTE: THIS IS AN ADD-ON ACTIVITY TO FURTHER YOUR LEARNING, BUT NOT NECESSARY] Laugh and laugh at break at the level of disdain in the room as classmates kvetch about how bourgeoisie a certain private school's writing program is, how COMFORTABLE their facilities are, what with couches and heat and coffee and copies provided and private writing rooms overlooking nature, because really WHO could possibly WRITE anything of value under such comfortable conditions. [Good thing we public schoolers are not snobs.]

14. Laugh at own poem because really this alternate universe is ultimately at least entertaining and not the worst way to spend three hours a week.

15. Despite a little embarassment, post own poem on blog so as not to protect yourself or pretend that you think you are better than these folks (truth be told, actually some of their found poetry was really quite interesting. Uh-oh, maybe the class thing is wearing off.)

(enjoy more of S's mediocre poetry):

My Craigslist MC


I was eating cake when I met you
I was eating a late lunch and I think you were too
I am in love with you
That sounds creepy
I think


grey girl silver Chevy
our eyes lock across Canvas Café
bicycle Bell Lady
off rack of Geary’s Goodwill
hammocks and hot tubs
paganbeautyjew
hushed next to you
by the sea
you turn to me, say
it’s ok to use the bridge
Dreamy Ms. Margo
small drip please
crosswalk compliment
fell peets KT




You wore a short curly red haired lady
I cannot remember your unusual name


This is a serious question:

Why am I so afraid of you