Wednesday, February 12, 2014

We've got little to be guilty of, much like Kristin Stewart

There are worse motivations than guilt for writing, like money, right?

I know, haha.

Possibly a twitchy drum-hand salute?
Here's what I got tonight: a title, two good lines, and a dozen bad ones that are all being thrown out. In short, not much. Well, of course, the idea -- an idea that's all kind of dreamy, kind of floozy, amorphous, in flux. An idea in search of ... not structure, that would not serve us well, nor form, but, maybe, focus? Nothing like laser-focus or intensity, more like an internal focus, a focus you, errant reader, should not notice (unless you're doing a close reading) but yours truly needs, to pull anything together. Poetically speaking.

Guess who writes poetry? Bella Swan! No, really, Kristin Stewart, and is she getting ripped for even trying:

And this is why I want to get an MFA?

In a class move, The Poetry Foundation took the whole thing so seriously they were able to use the names 'Shakespeare' and 'Stewart' in the same sentence, with a heavy side of irony. And she received some thoughtful feedback from actual poets, whose commentary I hope she take more seriously than that from or Gawker.

Okay, here's a little bit, I know you're curious. These are my favorite lines, the ending, they are the strongest and make the most sense (sense being important to me as reader):

My Heart Is A Wiffle Ball/Freedom Pole excerpt, by Kristin Stewart

And I bellowed and you parked
We reached Marfa.
One honest day up on this freedom pole
Devils not done digging
He’s speaking in tongues all along the pan handle
And this pining erosion is getting dust in
My eyes
And I’m drunk on your morsels
And so I look down the line
Your every twitch hand drum salute
Salutes mine...

I like the tension and story in the first line, and the declarative statement of the second. I have no idea what a freedom pole is, nor how one has an honest day up one. It makes me think of the Stylites, mystics who would spend extraordinary amounts of time ('honest days') contemplating God while perched atop columns. (Somehow I don't think this is what Miss Steward is referencing.) I also like the fourth line a lot; the alliteration is nice and it's followed up with another religious reference, the 'speaking in tongues,' so those two lines have some connective coherence.
Marfa is, I think, in Texas, so that helps us out knowing which 'panhandle' it is (I believe that's one word), and the 'pining erosion' with its inference of dry dusty plains explains what's going on with her eyes -- I would think she's crying. Nice.
The last four lines are kind of what-the-hell-? I'm down with her being drunk on someone -- a pretty well-worn metaphor -- but just what one's morsels are, I am not sure. Maybe text messages? The 'down the line' phrase makes me think of Glen Campbell's 'Wichita Lineman,' but that's just me. I love that song. Kind of melancholy, like this poem.
And the 'twitch hand' is pretty amusing -- there's something about Robert Pattinson, her co-star and dumper (in a relationship sense) that is a little twitchy, but the drum hand salute, stumped there. Maybe a musical reference? I think Rob is kind of musical. Although I like that these hands are saluting each other, drums aside, in the last line.

Wasn't I clever tonight -- I started us out confessing my own poetic inadequacies and ended up close reading Kristin Stewart's! Cathy for the win!

Actually we have something in common: A tendency to write poetry (or, in my case, anything) and launch it before its time. In fairness to her, I don't think it's the worst poem ever. But I think it's a first draft, and publishing (or handing in) first drafts usually results in embarrassment. Which is why you're not seeing that title, nor the two good lines, nor the dozen bad ones, I mentioned at opening. See, I've learned something tonight.

What else? Unlike Kristin I am so predictable:

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