“I don’t think
about the
past. I couldn’t change
myself.”
“I’ve never discussed this with anyone.”
I want you
to know
me.
What do
I have to do?
I glance down
trying to understand
the distance between us.
I whisper.Last weekend I was asked, “How’s the blackout poetry going?” and it was a kinda surreal experience. Mostly because my answer was pretty honest and more than a little defensive. I mean…
1. I’m doing a thing. And that part of it feels good. And the idea of it being something I do regularly feels good.
2. It involves “poetry” – and I’m not even the sort of person who actively seeks out poetry to read. Not that this is about audience, but it kinda always is. Even though this isn’t what this project is about, but maybe it is. But it’s not.
3. I’m not writing. Well, this part I am. But I don’t want the project to be more about these rambles than it’s about taking a swing at blackout poetry. They’re both part of it, but I need to make things balance.
4. I’m thinking about how I think about writing. I think I feel most comfortable writing sonnets. Elizabethan. I’m selecting the words that I don’t blackout, but I’m working with what’s already there and trying to not have it make me seem super emo. Though, perhaps I should’ve thought about that before I picked up a black marker.
I’ve read and re-read this week’s poem a few times. It’s kinda growing on me. Like this project. I hope you find something in it for yourself. I hope that for me too.
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You can learn about the impulse behind this project here.