replying on Uncontrolled scribblings one luch break by Nicholas Jones
10 Jan 2006, 7:59 AM
Welcome back. What have you been doing?
on Uncontrolled scribblings one luch break by Nicholas Jones
10 Jan 2006, 7:57 AM
The best part is how you misspelled "letch" in the title.
replying on floss every day by digipoet
10 Jan 2006, 7:54 AM
Yes, but it's researching things.
replying on [] by Prince of Void
9 Jan 2006, 4:18 PM
I do. This is not postmodernism. (Incidentally, poetry published today isn't postmodernism, either, as postmodernism ended anywhere from 2 to 4 decades ago. Today's poetry is called 'contemporary' until we come up with a better term.)
Furthermore, as far as 'representation' is a term specific to postmodernism, it only refers to the idea that writing REPRESENTS a history or reality which may not, in fact, be capturable -ie, that does not properly exist. This, rather than the classical or naturalist notion that writing can "capture" things as they really happened.
So are you saying that the thing we don't understand about this poem is that it's not an actual void, only a REPRESENTATION of void? Hey, good one. But we've all known that since kindergarten, postmodernism (as I've mentioned) having been around since before most of us were born.
By the by, you probably screwed up your other postmodernism term, too. Intertextuality, as used by postmodernists, means the understanding that texts derive from and interact with each other - as opposed to the more classical notion that a text can stand alone as its own entity. You can't "use" intertextuality in your poem, only at best acknowledge it. Did you mean that Nick doesn't get how your work depends on Dylan Thomas' text for its only half-decent line, or that you shouldn't read this poem without simultaneously listening to Gish-era Smashing Pumpkins? For my money, you meant that you were throwing out the only postmodernist vocab you know in a sagging bid for self-esteem, along with the suggestion that none of us understand "postmodernist" poetry except you. Please don't make any more assumptions about us. Thanks. It's been great talking to you.
Furthermore, as far as 'representation' is a term specific to postmodernism, it only refers to the idea that writing REPRESENTS a history or reality which may not, in fact, be capturable -ie, that does not properly exist. This, rather than the classical or naturalist notion that writing can "capture" things as they really happened.
So are you saying that the thing we don't understand about this poem is that it's not an actual void, only a REPRESENTATION of void? Hey, good one. But we've all known that since kindergarten, postmodernism (as I've mentioned) having been around since before most of us were born.
By the by, you probably screwed up your other postmodernism term, too. Intertextuality, as used by postmodernists, means the understanding that texts derive from and interact with each other - as opposed to the more classical notion that a text can stand alone as its own entity. You can't "use" intertextuality in your poem, only at best acknowledge it. Did you mean that Nick doesn't get how your work depends on Dylan Thomas' text for its only half-decent line, or that you shouldn't read this poem without simultaneously listening to Gish-era Smashing Pumpkins? For my money, you meant that you were throwing out the only postmodernist vocab you know in a sagging bid for self-esteem, along with the suggestion that none of us understand "postmodernist" poetry except you. Please don't make any more assumptions about us. Thanks. It's been great talking to you.
replying on greymo(u)rn by lmp
9 Jan 2006, 10:56 AM
I don't know. It has the tendency to make me write exactly like him. Mostly short sentences. I'm drinking coffee. The coffee's good but not as good as that night in Escorial with the commandantes all smoking around the table and the bombs falling over the ridge with the pine woods and oh Maria was soft when she came to me and she put her hand on me and I said oh no don't put your hand there, not there. Then she left. Bitch.
replying on What Matters by Dovina
9 Jan 2006, 10:52 AM
I'll keep setting them up...
replying on Birmingham gardens by INTRANSIT
9 Jan 2006, 9:50 AM
I guess it's too late to pretend to be Xander Vanderoest.
replying on Birmingham gardens by INTRANSIT
9 Jan 2006, 8:51 AM
At that level, that's not such a big difference as it is here. But this was in Poetry Daily:
Nothing in That Drawer
by Ron Padgett
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in That Drawer
by Ron Padgett
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
replying on Birmingham gardens by INTRANSIT
9 Jan 2006, 8:43 AM
That is amazing.
on Bloody Stools 'n' Butterflies by EAger to Offend
9 Jan 2006, 8:25 AM
"Wacky".
replying on floss every day by digipoet
9 Jan 2006, 7:47 AM
Who expended time? I'm just a fast researcher. For example:
In 1996, Americans bought only 12 inches of dental floss per capita.
RESEARCH TIME: 0m 36s
In 1996, Americans bought only 12 inches of dental floss per capita.
RESEARCH TIME: 0m 36s
on do i know you? by daggatolar
8 Jan 2006, 8:32 PM
their. Good one.
on What Matters by Dovina
8 Jan 2006, 8:31 PM
Put a colon after "nose" to make it a sentence. You're cute when you're smitten. Shallow, yes, but love is shallow.
on A New Year Prayer by amanda_dcosta
8 Jan 2006, 8:30 PM
For a second I thought you said "For [our sinful] worldly strife and troubles, don't treat us kindly [Lord]." Like you were asking him to treat us unkindly. I'm glad you weren't. Happy New Year.
on floss every day by digipoet
8 Jan 2006, 8:25 PM
Oddly, this is the 5th poem about flossing on poemranker. You'd think that's because we're so clever and 'wacky'.
on The Healing Species by Dovina
8 Jan 2006, 8:15 PM
YOUR GIFT:
Indwelling
By Teresa Cader
(republished without permission, natch.)
In the crazy guest who saws off the chair legs,
In the wind hissing beneath the door sweep,
A tribe of mice squeezing through pocket doors,
In the pants pockets where the evidence remains,
Those filaments of wool in the moth-eaten rug,
In the masquerade of motion that sets off the alarm,
The alarm that arrives via airwaves at dinnertime,
In the worm that opens e-mail, eats the address book,
The virus propagating on the unsuspecting screen,
In the cell that missed a loop of timing and purpose,
The unpaid tax surfacing like a submarine,
In the bloody stool and saliva, the mucus and membrane,
Slits of sunlight discoloring blue curtains,
In the broken gutter where ice dams pry up the roof,
A crack in the skylight where mold sifts down,
In the contractor hammering windmills on shingles,
The carpenter bees burrowing barracks into the attic,
In the funneling, the grating, the sagging, the gravitatingâ
O icon of muck and filch; there is nothing you won't
Divide, opening trap doors we forget to close.
Indwelling
By Teresa Cader
(republished without permission, natch.)
In the crazy guest who saws off the chair legs,
In the wind hissing beneath the door sweep,
A tribe of mice squeezing through pocket doors,
In the pants pockets where the evidence remains,
Those filaments of wool in the moth-eaten rug,
In the masquerade of motion that sets off the alarm,
The alarm that arrives via airwaves at dinnertime,
In the worm that opens e-mail, eats the address book,
The virus propagating on the unsuspecting screen,
In the cell that missed a loop of timing and purpose,
The unpaid tax surfacing like a submarine,
In the bloody stool and saliva, the mucus and membrane,
Slits of sunlight discoloring blue curtains,
In the broken gutter where ice dams pry up the roof,
A crack in the skylight where mold sifts down,
In the contractor hammering windmills on shingles,
The carpenter bees burrowing barracks into the attic,
In the funneling, the grating, the sagging, the gravitatingâ
O icon of muck and filch; there is nothing you won't
Divide, opening trap doors we forget to close.
replying on Pledge by http://mulberryfairy
8 Jan 2006, 7:07 PM
No, who are you... REALLY?
replying on Birmingham gardens by INTRANSIT
8 Jan 2006, 7:05 PM
It won't work in Juneau. We've only got about 40 miles of roads, most of them to nowhere. We're not connected by land to the Continent, Canada, or the rest of Alaska. If any of you are ever crazy to come by here, let me know and I'll put you up. You'll deserve it.
replying on What Matters by Dovina
8 Jan 2006, 7:03 PM