So, been unable to write a poem
For three days
Managed a Haiku
About the desertion of my Muse
If I put my mind to it
Could come up with a Cinquain
Then I came across this video by
William S. Burroughs, Beat poet
One of my heroes in the 60’s
(How odd, I talk about the 60’s
And now I’m in my 60’s
Time confuses me…)
Anyway, loved the line in
Allen Ginsberg’s “America”
Where he says:
“Burroughs is in Tangiers I don’t think he’ll come back it’s sinister”
Used to mumble that line in my OCD way
Wondering why he wouldn’t come back
Why it was sinister
So where was I?
Oh, yeah, Burroughs
And the art of cut-up writing
Based on Dadaist art:
Cut up words from a newspaper
Place in bag
Gently mix
Pull out words
Copy them in that order
New Poem!
Or do what Burroughs did:
Use your own poetry to cut up and recompose
Well, who actually buys a newspaper anymore?
Had to print out something but
Hadn’t replaced my cartridge in a long time
So did that
But then I needed scissors to cut out the words
I buy scissors at the dollar store
And they really aren’t made for carefully cutting
Out precious words (from my poems)
Or agenda-based words (from online newspapers)
But I did it, raggedy edges and all
Didn’t like the look of it
So went to my favorite random number generator
Copied a series of numbers
Matched them alphabetically
Here’s what I got,
Here’s the first line of my new poem:
A negative doctor negated Jane’s hemorrhage
(I hate double negatives
Always screwed up my IQ tests)
Well, maybe that would have worked as a poem
Back in the Beat days, or even the Hippie ones
Maybe it would still work for a young poet
But me? I think I’ll accept the message
That my Muse returned, temporarily
And is taunting me
Burroughs may be in Tangiers
But I’m in Dadaist hell
And it’s sinister…
http://www.openculture.com/2011/08/william_s_burroughs_on_the_art_of_cutup_writing.html
(C) 2014 ViataMaja, Laminas
poeturja 