Cutting and Pasting.

Art class is paying off. Here is a poem I wrote with the help of a newspaper. The assignment was to use words from the paper but we couldn't use anything shorter than 3 words, which was challenging and yielded really interesting results. The articles I was given to cut from were about a San Francisco politician, and a musician. Here on the blog I color coded the lines from the 2 different articles, and spaced them so you can see how they were composed from the clippings. In the manner of Graham Foust, I call the poem:


Poem With Help

God's name saved me. 
I was still singing, 
mentally ill, and widespread with 
much of my childhood    amended to death. 

I remember one.
He was high on mescaline. 
He was telling me to   secretly fret about
mystics whose poetry   was worthless, useless. 

So horribly he laughs. 
Its only June but it won't be
sorrow that would lead   him in the last.
That's his Achilles' heel. 

I was not   even remotely the worst offender,
should leave alone 
nakedness that is   in the vault for summer. 
He was always getting us to   craft a polite aura. 

He struggled for years   up in New York City. 
He realizes that   I don't have any memory of it. 

Another photo from Andrea Laszlo Konrath. It is currently my desktop. I think it's inspiring me.