July 2: Lost

I’m not in the mood to write haiku today.

Well, okay, I will probably write one, because I promised myself I would write one every day for a year. But I doubt it will be anything you will want to see.

I’m feeling a little pressed for time these days, and (as usual) very bad at managing it. I write long essays on this blog and respond to comments at ridiculous length while the to-do list keeps getting longer. The to-do list of important stuff. Stuff I’m getting graded on and paid for. (And yes, I am still Western enough to consider that stuff more important than stuff I just love to do.)

So here’s a Real Poem (as opposed to, you know, those fluffy little haiku things) I wrote a while back and did some half-hearted tinkering with recently. It needs something — probably a Real Poet to take it apart and put it back together again. But we do what we can.


I will write a poem
about the loss
of poetry.

What do we have instead of poetry?
Slick thoughts,
Puddling on the surface of our minds:
A seamless liquid spreading over the page.

Instead of β€”
A lithe sleeping animal curling its back in ecstasy,
Unfurling its claws one by one,
Spiking holes in our perception.

This is not what I meant to write,
And it is not

7 thoughts on “July 2: Lost

  1. Ooh! That *is* poetry and it’s awesome. The idea of slick thoughts especially resonates.

    For me, besides the glibness of modern life/media, it conjures a state of mind I call slippery brain, where the mind/brain (ego) refuses to ponder or consider a thing or topic because of the painful, deeper emotional issues associated with it. I’m most vulnerable to slippery brain when the topic at hand is war. My wife has her own issues which sometimes result in it.


    I dig this one. (and now I believe I have some haiku I’m supposed to write)

    • Thanks, Steve. I like your notion of “slippery brain.” I’m not sure I even want to start counting up the number of topics that affect me that way. πŸ™‚ (See, just the concept of slippery brain is giving me slippery brain … )

  2. I like it, too. wonderful images.

    there’s probably a name for this technique, but don’t ask me. they had a prompt a few weeks back at “big tent” that I interpreted as “I don’t want to write a poem about…” and it turned into quite a long piece. I think sometimes the “anti-” approach leads to what you really need to say.

    here’s that poem, if you’re interested — http://another2doors.wordpress.com/2010/06/22/i-dont-want-to-write-a-poem/
    (it’s a ummm, delicate subject matter — so be warned.)

    and, I have that same problem — doing what i need to do first. if you figure out how to do it, please share!! πŸ™‚

    • Oh, I just read that poem a few days ago, Angie! and thought it was so wonderful — and yes so very painful, which is probably why I didn’t leave a comment as I should have … it left me a little speechless, and muttering under my breath for a while about the sheer bloody impossibility of being a woman and how sad it is that girls that young know it already.

      Thanks for your kind words about this one (and yesterday’s moon ku). It always pleases me when you like my images, yours are so amazing to me — if I left a comment whenever I thought one was amazing you would think I was stalking you or something πŸ™‚ But maybe I should anyway.

      Don’t know what to do about the time thing. After spending most of yesterday doing fiddly annoying homework I was up half the night writing the fun stuff I want to write … but ultimately I don’t think that’s a sustainable pattern. πŸ™‚

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s