www.onethirtyseven.com
(updated: 3-16-06) Busy: 95%
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www.onethirtyseven.com
The palindrome that Slyvia Plath wanted on her head stone:
RATS LIVE ON NO EVIL STAR
Now how cool is that. Rats, as in, humans are rats? Rats live on no evil star? Star as in planet? So, rats aren’t evil? Don’t most people hate rats? Rats are a byproduct of humans no? So is she referring to our society? To our culture? Who knows…
Below is the comprehensive list of poems. I would love to provide a more elegant way, but for now this will have to do (I have not enough time to overcome these technological limitations).
Sarcasm about a cow. A vague metaphor for someone I don’t like. Does it include biblical references?
Based on a dream I had. This pokes fun at why religion deems some things as “holy”. I suppose I’d go to a Mormon form of hell for writing this, but alas, I’m not Mormon. So does that make Mormons wrong? Absolutely not. Does that make me wrong? Absolutely not.
This is an allusion to Jean Baudrillard’s book “Simulacra & Simulation” which deals with how we are deconstructing our reality everyday. This is also about a photographic essay I did which took formalist images of natural scenes and distorted them through a series of digital/analogue filters to arrive at a piece of art that is nothing but a distorted simulation of the original image (which alas was just an image to begin with and thus a poorly substituted simulation of the real thing.)
Go get William Ørbit’s CD, “Pieces In A Modern Style” and listen to track 3, “Ogive Number 1.” This is what happen in my head when I close my eyes and listen to that song.
Humans have been “creating” for thousands of year. So of course whatever an artist makes today will be “derivative.” Which makes one think, can a person ever be original anymore?
Why do they have ministers read last rights for a death row inmate? Isnt the whole point of death row revenge for the victims? I mean killing a killer wont bring back the deceased will it? And he is being killed as punishment right? So why absolve him of his sins at the last moment? This stuff drives me nuts.
Why are americans always “at war” with something? If its not the “Axis of Evil” then its the pests, the weeds, obesity, drugs, alcoholism, depression, the list goes on. Why can’t we ever be at peace? All I want is a little peace and harmony and everybody is always at war. See my older poem, Love of War for another take on this.
Just getting out some childhood angst. Also lends itself to using color throughout a poem to set a mood. How does Pink make you feel?
A rather disturbing dream I had. I actually left out some of the details because they just weren’t appropriate for a poem.
Russell Edson is one of my favorite poets. This is a lame attempt at some of his wit and humor.
I honestly have seen a bumper sticker that said, “Live life so the preacher doesn’t have to lie at your funeral.” This is also in response to the way funerals are all the same and the service never truly reflects the the person it is honoring.
“This sentence is false.” Aah… Eubulides paradox. The title of this poem is false. But if it is indeed false, then the poem would not “not [be] about semiotics”, therefore it would be about semiotics. But if the title were true, then the poem would indeed “not [be] about semiotics.” So, which is it? You decide.
I’ve always gone skiing for Christmas Break and Spring Break. But I’ve also been happy with the length of the seasons. The way winter lasts to the point where you say to yourself one day, “this cold is pissing me off” just in time for spring. Why deny what you have? Embrace it.
Exploring the darker side of human nature and evoking that feeling in the reader. Does it work?
A parody of a global knowledge of utensils. Also an allusion to Charles Simic’s poem, “Fork?.
Yes, you CAN have a religious experience in a coffee shop. Even if you don’t have a religion. And yes Mr. Platt, “fecundity” is exactly what I meant.
The most shocking image to me of September 11th, 2001 was watching the tiny little dots of people fall 500 feet to their death. Wanting to come to terms with that frightening image, I wrote a poem putting myself in that place.
What is it with Humans and war? It frustrates me to no end. See the newer poem A Million Ants For Every One of Us for more on this topic.
Lamenting a break-up with a very self absorbed girl. Name withheld for your protection.
A sestina is a particular poetic structure where you take seven words, in this case, Montana, ski, sky, mountains, snow and trees that you use as seven line endings. In the next stanza you then take the last word in the previous stanza and use it as your first word, and then the first word becomes the second, then the second to last word becomes the third and so on. By the time you get to the seventh stanza all of the ending words are in their original order. Also, the seventh stanza is the envoy which concludes the sestina by combining two sentences onto one line. The sestina format is best used for topics that the poet is obsessed with.
A haiku on the western obsession with doing everything inside an enclosed building, even when the weather is nice out.
Sometimes philosophical analysis gets you nowhere but the future with a bunch of wasted time behind you.
The result of a class exercise where we are given a starting sentence from which to write a poem. I wrote down the sentence wrong by accident though so mine was totally bizarre and different.
Sometimes you just get a phrase stuck in your head and you can’t get it out. I had to do something with, “The Parable of the Flaccid Pickle.” So you know how, “Peter Picked a Pack of Pickled Peppers?” Well what if Peter was a pickle? Combine the two and here you go.
A combination of two poems. One about breaking up and another about getting caught speeding.
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