23
Nov
09

To Twirl

All I can see
Is you Dancer
Twirling
Spinning as if my persuasions
Were ribbon
And you held the end
In one hand
                 Twir
                          L
                 Ing
                           As
                 If
                           My
                 Pain
                            Were
                 Ribb
                            In
That spools your body

Did you know my ribbon
Looks beautiful on you?
You have taken it
Upon your shoulders
Yet continue spinning

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2 Responses to “To Twirl”


  1. 1 zdbarnett
    November 23, 2009 at 10:02 am

    I feel as though you’ve heard this from me before, but don’t grow weary of it: This is wonderful.

    The aesthetic of “twir/l/ing/as/if…” was sublime. It captivated my eye as I was looking through your recent work, and I had to immediately take a closer look

    It felt as though the poem began quite loose and was wound tightly by the end, like the ribbon encircling your dancer. Brief, and effectively so.

    I’m curious about your spelling of ribbon [ribbin] at the end of the word-spiral. If it was intention, I couldn’t figure it out. Rib in? Like a jab to the side? Evoking Adam & Eve? I wasn’t sure. Maybe I’m reading too hard. Or maybe you should fire your editor. (Ha ha!)

    In any case, I enjoyed this. The punctuality remind me of William Carlos Williams – I can’t bring myself to call him “WCW,” as it evokes images of sweaty men body-slamming one another – but not in a knock-off sort of way: this is uniquely yours. I like watching your style develop. Keep it up, and expect me to flip through your work now and again.

    • November 23, 2009 at 12:10 pm

      The intention of “ribb/in” is not at all allusionary or visual, but phonetic rather. I have this idea that the English language – the clusterfuck that it is – with conflicting sounds and synonyms, is misleading. So, in this (you hit it) subliminal spiral, I need to compose the way it sounds as opposed to the way it looks or via grammatical technicalities. With that said, though, the lone “L” is kinda haunting me. I’ve thought of making it “Ul” or “El”. Any thoughts or suggestions? Of course, that whole idea is subject to my conception of language – “Pains” haunts me for the same reason. All the other words or syllables seem very basic and easy to legitimize, according to this idea. Also, I think I’ll remove the ‘s’ from “Pains” and make it singular

      As much as I would like to claim an intentional tightening of the poem from beginning to end, I cannot take claim for it, not at least on a concious level. I had just come back from a date with this girl, and being all hormonal, felt a need to write. So, the poem was begun with a very open-ended goal, and as I typed and words appeared, I guess I honed in on the idea as I went. In the end, it very much serves a purpose…..but I’d be lying if I said it was intentional, or if I said I don’t feel lucky.

      To be honest, I love to refer to him as WCW. Call it prickish, but it really allows me to seperate people into – in a Wordsworthian term, as well as others I’m sure – High and Low Culture. I’m more than willing to allow people to think that “No Ideas but In Things” originates in the World Championship Wrestling, if that’s even what it stands for. I guess it makes Williams more personally mine. That is prickish. Anyways, yes, Williams has been having a great affect on my poetry as of late, as well as my required reading for other classes. In a sense, I absolutely do want to emulate him, but neither do I want to necissarily borrow from or copy him. I’m sure you’ve ran into this problem: finding your style and poetic persona amidst a hundreds of years of great literature and clingy cliche. Its down right annoying sometimes.

      I feel we should workshop sometime, in the person. Maybe even start a writer’s colony? Well, at least workshop the hell out of some writing, not necissarily poetry. I can wait ’til summer, but that of course is a long way off.


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The reason for all this is not reasonable. The reason, strictly art, Still makes no sense to me.

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