Showing posts with label erasure. Show all posts
Showing posts with label erasure. Show all posts

Monday, February 11, 2013

A phantom grace: three blackout/erasures of Sylvia Plath poems





Source material: Sylvia Plath’s Sleep in the Mojave Desert from Crossing the Water



Source material: Sylvia Plath's Flute Notes from a Reedy Pond


Source material: Sylvia Plath's Dialogue Between Ghost and Priest

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Scribble the Holy Contour


Scribble everything!

Get drunk with your life, its own visionary tics, the true

story of the world interior – jewel center

of recollection. 

Swim in language,

in the holy contour of life

emblazoned in praise

of wild, undisciplined time.





Bits and pieces culled from Jack Kerouac's 30 Writing Tips

Saturday, April 30, 2011

Erasure of Neruda's Epithalamium


At first I did not see you: I did not know
  your           presence:
  
the shouts of the wind in the shadow.


Do you remember

how sleep grew
in you,

      how  
               the wind
  
echoed  

      its secret syllable
  
and all things spoke 

of the seed that half opens?


Your name is on the petals

of the rose that grows on the stone,


       a scarlet mouth  

deciphers your name:
  
    broken window

crazy with light.  





Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Ghost Priest


A sliding haze

in dark-webbed branches



     wavering gauze-edged, inhabited

     by a voice furred with frost,



a haunt of gilded questions.

love gnaws me


     a phantom

     grace             splits from that pale mist.







*Illustration of erasure*


An erasure of Sylvia Plath's Dialogue Between Ghost and Priest



Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Sleep

Out here,


             It is dangerous.



mad men inhabit the blue hour,



glittery fictions glide

In the crevice of shadow


comfortless as firedogs in the wind.


here,

heat-cracked crickets

creep into our hair.

 
 
 
*
 
 
 
Erasure of Sylvia Plath's Sleep in the Mojave Desert from Crossing the Water

Friday, November 26, 2010

Wicked Expeditions - a found poem tribute

Wicked expeditions

   seizing
 
        wild   bitter greens

the blistered brine     still lives in me.

I praise   wild

   bristly chicories.


I linger lost to blossom,


sap & seed.










Thank you, Dana Tommasino, for the essay at Narrative, Primal.

Saturday, July 31, 2010

Erasures

Follow this link to construct your own erasures online.

Saturday, July 24, 2010

Smudges - an erasure

The first morning:

those first disquieting hours

trying to distract myself,

wandering, listening, wondering how

we still know less than nothing.



I never realized

how everything is permeated,

the heavy noontime air

alive with shimmers and mirages.



However much we didn't want to,

however little we would do about it,

we'd understood: we were going to perish

of all this, if not now, then soon, if not soon,

then someday.


I remember

starlings beneath the eaves,

carats of nightfall,

every sidewalk scribbled with hearts.











Source text: Tar by C.K. Williams.

Thursday, July 15, 2010

Paradise Lost: an erasure


Restore us, chaos

I invoke thy Song,

       
the vast in me is dark.



Nine times the Space that measures 

Day and Night:



Let us not slip.



Let us rest if any rest can harbour there.