I am ready.
I am here.
What more is needed?
Can one write
by merely
erasing words
from the page?
The answer
may surprise
but it is
yes.
Showing posts with label erasure. Show all posts
Showing posts with label erasure. Show all posts
Friday, April 7, 2017
Thursday, November 17, 2016
Dedicated to Mary
She makes beauty appear by erasing words from the page
Act of subtraction
Simplification
An existing form
Rendering fat from bones
Innocuous censorship
Such an appalling word
Meaning drawn from mutilation
New life
Requires transformation
Demands S A C R I F I C E
What are you
Willing to give?
Act of subtraction
Simplification
An existing form
Rendering fat from bones
Innocuous censorship
Such an appalling word
Meaning drawn from mutilation
New life
Requires transformation
Demands S A C R I F I C E
What are you
Willing to give?
Thursday, June 2, 2016
The Eraser
I began to erase the words from books because
I could not stand the lines falling flat and dead upon the page.
Gradually, I began to see the remaining words coalesce
into thoughts I had never before considered.
They began to speak freely as though they were unbound
from the constraints of which they had been born.
Pages upon pages I filled with black sharpie or the
imprecise brush stroke of whiteout.
I began to draw, colour, cut and paste images
into these books. I began to reshape them
into representations of my thought process.
Beautiful. Scattered. Old. Revelatory. Blasphemous.
In this way, I found my joy. It had merely been hidden
all along, in those dusty old books hidden in forgotten rooms.
I could not stand the lines falling flat and dead upon the page.
Gradually, I began to see the remaining words coalesce
into thoughts I had never before considered.
They began to speak freely as though they were unbound
from the constraints of which they had been born.
Pages upon pages I filled with black sharpie or the
imprecise brush stroke of whiteout.
I began to draw, colour, cut and paste images
into these books. I began to reshape them
into representations of my thought process.
Beautiful. Scattered. Old. Revelatory. Blasphemous.
In this way, I found my joy. It had merely been hidden
all along, in those dusty old books hidden in forgotten rooms.
Sunday, February 28, 2016
Monday, February 25, 2013
More Stray Lines
I.
Rival Sons
II.
Wax Heart
III.
In space there is no time.
IV.
Labyrinthine Snakes
V.
We move as slowly as slugs
but with far less patience.
VI.
Create new addictions,
revisit old ones.
VII.
Rival Suns
Note: these random lines were from Friday 2/22/13 and Saturday 2/23/13
Rival Sons
II.
Wax Heart
III.
In space there is no time.
IV.
Labyrinthine Snakes
V.
We move as slowly as slugs
but with far less patience.
VI.
Create new addictions,
revisit old ones.
VII.
Rival Suns
Note: these random lines were from Friday 2/22/13 and Saturday 2/23/13
Sunday, February 24, 2013
Narcissa
maiden
in the dusk
Narcissa
with hungry eyes
Narcissa
of free habit and
beautiful
blending colors
without rival.
"Ain't that elegant?"
I guess.
Narcissa
sleeps
Note: this piece is a result of an erasure workshop I attended that was led by poet Mary Ruefle on Saturday, February 23rd at the Clark Memorial Library of UCLA.
in the dusk
Narcissa
with hungry eyes
Narcissa
of free habit and
beautiful
blending colors
without rival.
"Ain't that elegant?"
I guess.
Narcissa
sleeps
Note: this piece is a result of an erasure workshop I attended that was led by poet Mary Ruefle on Saturday, February 23rd at the Clark Memorial Library of UCLA.
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