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Public Poems: condensed version

This entry is part 11 of 15 in the series Public Poems

Public Poems word cloud
(click on image to enlarge)

Some people don’t “get” poetry because they’re exclusively visual thinkers. For many others of a more practical frame of mind, the seemingly arbitrary arrangement of words into lines, stanzas, and units of meaning constitutes the main stumbling-block. Debates about how to reach those kinds of folks are anything but academic if you’re on a committee charged with selecting and presenting poetry to an indifferent public.

Well, I’m here to help. I’ve taken the complete texts of the first ten poems in my Public Poems series and run them through Wordle (thanks, John) which discards the most common words (a, on, the, etc.) and puts all the others into a configurable word cloud, a variation on the tag clouds familiar to anyone who spends an appreciable amount of time online. I then made an audio recording of the cloud (here’s a download link for those who can’t see the Flash player above). This sort of thing could be broadcast over a public address system at regular intervals wherever the poetry clouds are displayed, with results perhaps comparable to the well-known consequences of backmasking on vinyl records of heavy metal music back in the 1980s, only without the sacrifices of family pets. From these dense clouds a kind of condensation would take place, poetry falling like rain on the parched soil of the imagination. Or not.

Posted in Audio, Humor, Poets and poetry | 20 Comments

Poem for Display Above the Urinals in a Men’s Restroom

This entry is part 12 of 15 in the series Public Poems

Eyes front, soldier.
The general looks hard for signs
of deviation.

Don’t show too much interest
even in this poem,
which is probably gay.

There were trees here once
where you stand relieving yourself
against a hollow trunk.

They would not have known
what to do
with so much saltpeter.
__________

Note: Saltpeter, or potassium nitrate — a critical component of gunpowder — readily precipitates out of urine.

Posted in Greatest Hits, Poems & poem-like things | 11 Comments

Poem for Display in a Vacant Lot

This entry is part 13 of 15 in the series Public Poems

The concrete dreams
of bindweed & beggar-tick,
burdock & wineberry,
gravid mosquito mothers,
copperheads, a wild rose
equipped with grappling hooks.

The concrete wants to be loved,
not merely walked upon.
It wants to go home with you,
clinging to your pants leg,
or at least take a bite
your skin will remember.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way.
The concrete was our gift
to an unimproved land
where woods & weeds ran riot.
At best, we might condescend
to preserve some open space,

a light-green stripe across the grid.
But the pavement, too,
begins to bulge open.
There are no motels in this vacancy.
The flag of our alienation
goes down to kudzu.

Posted in Greatest Hits, Nature/Ecology, Poems & poem-like things | 10 Comments

Poem for Display in a Shopping Mall Food Court

This entry is part 14 of 15 in the series Public Poems

No porridge here!
Everything is always
just right.
Times & temperatures are set
by central decree.
They strain the plankton from the fryers
once a shift.

Here, you have choices.
You can pick a different
transnational brand of transfat
for every course.
You serve yourself — who better? –
in bucket-shaped seats.

Discrimination has no place here;
there’s room for everyone
with six dollars in their wallet.
True, the fixed gap between seat
& table edge may make
hunchbacks of some
& force others to sit sideways,
the prow of a distended gut
catching crumbs in lieu of a tray.
But they’re neither too hard
nor too soft, these seats.
E pluribus unum:
all asses conform
to Formica.

For the Read Write Poem prompt, political poetry. Other responses here.

Posted in Personal/Political, Poems & poem-like things | Tagged | 3 Comments

Poem for Display in Housing Project

This entry is part 15 of 15 in the series Public Poems

Memo to the original planners:
this is what the future
actually looks like.
How do you explain
to yourselves our vagrant,
flagrant refusal to fit
into your uniformed vision?
Or perhaps we fit all too well,
making this project
into an efficient projection
of someone’s self-loathing
onto the cosmos?
For surely these highrises
amount to another Babel.
Some aspect of their conception
disrespected the natural order,
& now they are as hollow
as spent shells.
And just as in scripture,
we barely understand
the lingo of our own
flown children,
who say — we think –
that the prison feels like home,
that it has a yard,
that they might be
a little safer there
from stray
projectiles.

Posted in Poems & poem-like things | 4 Comments
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