I’ve recently begun the stage of my project in which I decide how many poems will be featured my final portfolio, in what order…etc. It’s relieving, mostly because I still get to generate original content but there’s less pressure to meet a weekly quota.
One part of the revision process that I was not looking forward to, was dealing with how to format my many senryu poems (same syllabic rules of a haiku, but not bound to a nature theme). They are one of my favorite forms because they encourage me to be more creative than a lot of the other forms I’ve employed thus far, but they don’t play well with the rest of my content.
In my latest meeting with David, he encouraged me to find a common theme between them and join them as a sort of super-senryu. I was opposed the idea at first, remembering that I had written each short poem at different times and that they portray varying states of mind and moods, and possess different subjects.
After many failed attempts at fitting them in between other poems, however, I began organizing them, putting them in an order that I thought made the most sense. This proved frustrating at times, but overall, much more successful than my previous attempts.
After a few sessions of resituating-and-stepping-away-only-to-return-again-and-change-everything-hours-later, I finally landed on an order that worked well for me. I had to substitute only a few words and remove a few senryu that didn’t fit regardless of the order.
This exercise proved successful after all and taught me an important lesson: don’t be a baby and listen to the instructions of the published poet with decades of experience.
Anamnesis
I dip my toes in
a pool of palatable
broken promises.
My pipe organ pumps
toxins through dark veins, rousing
today’s dissonance.
The morning sunlight
Illuminates a crucial
Time of day: today.
Tomorrow will be…
Another twenty-four hours
That is all I know.
Autumn leaves trees nude
A cool breeze, a dry dead rain
I, alive, fall too.
Love teeters on the
edge of your bathroom sink where
mirrors hold my heart
Let’s exist outside
Of this fluorescent nonsense,
We’ll share the fresh air.
Her viewfinder eyes,
shutter-finger takes a pulse,
enslaved by the light.
Why don’t you ever
Write about me? She asks me.
I respond, But how?
Your essence is a
part of everything I know
and I know nothing.
Tear the answer from
The back of the book you’ve bound
In your sleepless nights.
Write ambiguous
melodies. I will listen
and sing harmony.
The silence surrounds:
swallowing sound, now louder
than my heart expounds.
Impossible, yes,
the silence cannot listen:
what is there to say?
The beads of sweat roll
like pearls across mirrored plates:
severed heads of fear.
I am not mindless:
I left my mind at home
for you to sustain.
A phosphorescent
glow throws shadows to corner
familiar warmth:
Memory is grace,
a glimmer in my mind’s eye
reflecting your life.
