Monday, March 16, 2015

Book spine cento

The dead and the living, all
these voices rave:

     "Who will know us,
       what we carry of this world, the way
       it is a murmuration
       of starlings."

The world doesn't end. This
is what they say.

I used only books of poetry today so cento it is. Stacking books so they form stories or poems is also referred to as bookmashing, sorted books, and book spine poetry.

Saturday, March 2, 2013

It's a frog strangling gully washer - a found poem about rain

It's raining 



and the knives of cobbler boys, 

husbands are falling, 

old ladies and sticks 

from basins 


trolls are falling from a beanstalk

Pelting, chucking, tipping it

down like a pissing cow

basin-bending big rain.

Source text found at: Omniglot

Monday, February 11, 2013

A phantom grace: three blackout/erasures of Sylvia Plath poems

Source material: Sylvia Plath’s Sleep in the Mojave Desert from Crossing the Water

Source material: Sylvia Plath's Flute Notes from a Reedy Pond

Source material: Sylvia Plath's Dialogue Between Ghost and Priest

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

River Brink - a cento

The stream is brimful in the grassy fringe

stone bridge among the withes

        old as the elms that shelter it.

A thunder of horses stretches

up the slope       moist necks 

        freed from the harness.

Source text:

Saturday, August 20, 2011

Between Being and Becoming

Desire marks each of us so differently

no matter how long, how fiercely we love.

Between being and becoming, we fail

so often, and in such ordinary ways.

See how the sliding days silt in,

taking our other hundred lives with the water -

     each one waiting, having borne us this far,

becoming finned and whole, swimming off.

Silence completes us, simple as those few notes
that answer the dark on a summer night and fall still.

Source text for Cento: selected last lines from Jane Hirshfield's Of Gravity & Angels

Thursday, August 18, 2011

Lush Valley

Cactus spread red-purple blooms,

improbable flowers.

Water rushing, leaves unfolding -

gratitude opened today in the heat.

Cento Source text: Lush by Sandra Vallie

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Scribble the Holy Contour

Scribble everything!

Get drunk with your life, its own dumbsaint mind:  

visionary tics, trance, the true

story of the world interior – jewel center

of recollection. Swim in language,

in the holy contour of life

emblazoned in praise

of wild, undisciplined time.

Bits and pieces culled from Jack Kerouac's 30 Writing Tips