Showing posts with label poem is. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poem is. Show all posts
6.30.2026
6.16.2026
thrill ride
The poem was an amusement park of language thrill rides.
Labels:
amusement park,
language,
poem is,
ride,
thrill
6.01.2026
anything not everything
Anything can be a poem but not everything becomes a poem.
Labels:
anything,
composition,
everything,
poem is,
subject
3.20.2026
one stanza
One stanza can stand for and hold up an entire poem.
Labels:
entire poem,
poem is,
stand,
stanza
1.09.2026
12.10.2025
11.04.2025
kinds of containers
A poem to me is a container whether it be benign like a water pitcher or dangerous like a pipe bomb.
Labels:
benign,
container,
dangerous,
hand grenade,
poem is,
water pitcher
10.31.2025
10.17.2025
7.15.2025
7.08.2025
6.21.2025
obviously magnificent
You can’t explain the poem: you can’t say what it’s about, you can’t even make a claim for it as a poem, yet it manifests itself in the space of the page and declares itself magnificent.
6.13.2025
6.03.2025
5.22.2025
4.26.2025
3.04.2025
pure presence
a poem is something in the midst of a white plane
fenced in by itself and enclosed by the surface of its lines.
although it has forgotten where and how it came to be,
it is no lost soul
[…]
a pure presence
each poem is a shell around a kernel possibly invented
each poem is a translation of the one poem that exists only in translation
each poem is its own condition
a poem is that which declares itself to be a poem
—Jutta Schutting, the start and ending of “Poems,” from In der Sprache der Inseln, Contemporary Austrian Poetry (Fairleigh Dickinson U. Press, 1986), edited and translated by Beth Bjorklund
fenced in by itself and enclosed by the surface of its lines.
although it has forgotten where and how it came to be,
it is no lost soul
[…]
a pure presence
each poem is a shell around a kernel possibly invented
each poem is a translation of the one poem that exists only in translation
each poem is its own condition
a poem is that which declares itself to be a poem
—Jutta Schutting, the start and ending of “Poems,” from In der Sprache der Inseln, Contemporary Austrian Poetry (Fairleigh Dickinson U. Press, 1986), edited and translated by Beth Bjorklund
Labels:
austrian poetry,
enclosed,
fence,
jutta schutting,
kernel,
poem is,
presence,
shell,
translation,
white plane
9.20.2024
stutter on
But every poem is no more than a stutter
beneath the endless stutter of the stars.
—Roberto Juarroz, Vertical Poetry: Last Poems (White Pine Press, 2011), translation by Mary Crow
beneath the endless stutter of the stars.
—Roberto Juarroz, Vertical Poetry: Last Poems (White Pine Press, 2011), translation by Mary Crow
Labels:
endless,
poem is,
roberto juarroz,
stars,
stutter
8.28.2024
radio left on
Most poems will be like a radio left on in a vacant room, a device talking into space.
Labels:
poem is,
publishing poetry,
radio,
room
8.10.2024
stanza thus
A good stanza from almost any poem could stand alone as a poem.
Labels:
poem is,
stand alone,
stanza
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