Wash Your Face, Creative Writing Candidates

Wikipedia Poem, No. 504


“The world is everything that is the case. / Now stop your blubbering and wash your face.” Donald Hall

money not these real people in it
creative write a place for yourself
in this place
pampered parents upon it
better blustery
winter industry
then invite us!
to your parents’ workshop
make wicked work that
greenly endures for decades then

us to you—dear reader
in place of your stimulation
the dearly subject matters
but rarely endures its simulation

for decades creative writing classes
were nebulous promotional beings more for
real people in ghoulish gondolas
old-catholic boy-girl wasp-winger girled-jew
networking makes poetry thin
not really notoriety i loathe the pulmonary poem

these are toothy
times phony money
teachers set in lye
to create exercises upon—
in place of poetry
pull imaginary
landscapes forward with
dante and tanto
lurching better livid
writhing bible chemists

poetwores no abandone sù bebe
court the endless harpy faith
encourage each forkshot kin

“Urban life is dense and fast and requires flexible structures that can incorporate speed and information.”


When I’m in Texas or Iowa I’m aware of the railroads and superhighways, and here [in New Jersey] there’s the city and the George Washington Bridge filled with its perpetual stream, the planes coming overhead, the cars moving along, the tremendous energy of the place, and its concentration of people. Nothing is still here. It’s very dynamic. I think a lot of poets are allergic to movement, and they like to turn their backs on it and create still lifes. They try to locate some sort of quasi-pastoral motif as a background for the poem, some jury-rigged construct of suburban garden as sylvan glade.

Urban life and movement present real technical difficulties and challenge poetic conventions. Urban life is dense and fast and requires flexible structures that can incorporate speed and information. It’s tough to come up with a coherent, interesting structure. Most simply avoid the problem or take refuge in some rote “avant-garde” gesture like fridge-magnet indeterminism, i.e. spilling the language all over the floor and stomping on it like a three-year-old child.

August Kleinzahler, The Art of Poetry No. 93, The Paris Review, Fall 2007

Wikipedia Poem, No. 62; Netanyahu 5

“It leaves today
the other’s future the grateful interred with our
chief terrorists aggress,”


Netanyahu 5

aircrafter years. It directed 
missile the 
tween the come explain a military nuclear 
with a very 
     should is busines, 
          include tween 
Iran's no undeclared 
the was 
          are countdown the aisle 
     you we 
      capital Balliance 
        a much more ask 
          him a quest, 
         Iran. It leaves today 
  the other's future the grateful interred with our 
       chief terrorists aggress, 
         that death, howevery to a newest 
current nuclear weaponsible) 
         chamber infortunity 
      of anti-Israel has neighbors document.

spinning. That's 
just always why 
     -- relieve trusted. 
Thank your concession.

Wikipedia Poem, No. 62; Netanyahu 1

“That the battle but lose mountry, over infortunity.”


Netanyahu 1

     only disagreedom 
for a 
      wreat these neight 
-- the in the all threates of 
  challery, man 
       someone the regime, 
especial momen, 
than to war. 
      That the battle but lose mountry, over infortunity.

  Just nuclear Hormuz, that break-out a 
   concession to provided vitals, Baghdad, 
     Damas to walk away 
friend on 
         We must 
and a while it will always a 
  and the futured on is 
not story, 
   Secret the 190,000 centrifuges, include 
tween a 
broke to inspectors.

But unfortunity.
   If all that Israel, 
it's who do just 
be know-how dangerous appen.
We can't exactly 
from have

“Proof that cinema is 50 years behind all other arts,” [draft]

The brain function!
each line flirting dangerously close to each above
suburban new jersey tan
sandy sandals skin cement

The patterns repeating!
another handsome man
illuminates his jaw
foreground becomes background
the first assistant cameraman earns his sleep
and Fellini’s big toe is bleeding again

On the third re-write:

          the cruel bees have sucked
          all the life from these poor flowers.

The camera pans, eye follows
think cribward, lens exposing film
light through the apartment’s curtain
sounds at city dawn, as an also-ran theatre
absolute silence; safer here between
her blinking lash against yr ear.

“Ricordati che è un film comico”