Friday, April 28, 2006

meeting you at your favorite resturant



meeting you at your favorite resturant

your smile
under a bowl of steaming soup
tears in your eyes
from the heat
and from the occassion

Thursday, April 27, 2006

Blogs and Wikis write-up

This is an assignment for my blogs and wikis class. It's a survey of my progress and development as a poet, a photographer and a blogger.

I feel that I need to do the write up on my blog rather than on the wiki because the project is on the blog. It only makes sense. The medium of composition is fundamental to the project and to review it in some other fashion makes no sense. Anyway, I was planning on doing a review of my blog at the six month point--highlighting some of my better posts--so I figured I could just do that now. After all, I'm less than a month away from the six month birthday of Jones Poems.

One major issue of my blog is poem persona confusion. This discussion topic comes up frequently. Usually, I'm thinking about it in relation to a poem I've written, so I will make a comment. Then other people will comment about my comment. In some cases my readers agree that it's frusturating that readers assume a poem is a lyrical memoir, yet in other cases I feel like people are saddened by the thought that a poem isn't something that happened in the real world. Perhaps that stems from the assumptions about poets (that poets are dreamers who can see deeply into the things of this world.

Another huge issue (perhaps even bigger than poem persona confusion) is the intersection of words with images. Some of the strongest poems I've written this semester are weak or don't make sense without their partner photo. The most striking example of this is sunday school. First of all, I love this poem because it communicates something--perhaps how I feel about religion, perhaps how I want to feel about religion, perhaps what those around me feel about religion. But more than that, I've put meaning into an image. Separately, the photo and the poem wouldn't mean as much as they do together. The photo probably wouldn't evoke the emotions it does without the poem to explain the deeper meaning within the photo. The photo would have a different focus. And without the photo the poem would lack its vividness. They are a unit. They are one piece of art. I also enjoyed the content comments on this poem.

I find having content comments fascinating. missing the snow is a poem that made me marvel at the comments (particularly Jessie's comment). Because I want readers to make their own meanings, I often use ambiguious second person pronouns, which can lead to all kinds of wonderful and fascinating trouble. I wrote this poem with something else in mind; this poem started with a thought rather than a photo. As I browsed my pictures for a compatible photo, I found this one, the one with the snow. Originally, there was no winter in my poem, but it fit my secret "you" very well, so I used the photo even though I'd already used it for a previous poem.

I do have a poem that troubles me. I wrote it last week--my link poem. I love the idea of the poem--chasing endless meaning through an endless web of reading and meaningmaking--but I don't like the way I had to go about illustrating it. Why? This idea is timeless. We can never escape that we cannot know everything, that one thought will always lead us to another thought (sometimes old, sometimes new). But this poem will die. The links will probably die as their creators get bored with them or create better sites. Beyond that, this poem is trapped in my blog. The photopoems I could print in a book without separating the marriage between poem and image. But I cannot put the link poem in a book. How do I send readers on an infinite mental journey in print without forcing them to "wander" where I want them to. A book author is a dictator. She forces the reader to move where she wants them to. The internet is different. A webwriter can set up a series of links, but he cannot force the reader to examine all of them. There is so much to see and do online that any expectation of that sort would be absurd. "hypertextual life" plays with this. I want the readers of this poem to get distracted and wander off (I hope they come back).

I also got some good comments off of the StudioTours. "My first impression of Jones Poems, from the color of her template, is that it is very serious, and that the author is deep in thought. I find myself wanting to tiptoe so I don't disturb her creative process." I really like this quote. I kind of feel like this when I go to Jones Poems too. It's a calm place. I don't really have that many angry poems. There is anger in some of my poems ("sunday school" and "learning the art of sleeping around") but it's not an overt anger. It lurks quietly under the surface, waiting for an explosion which might never come.

Sandi had interesting and useful things to say about my grammar and mechanics as well: "Another interesting point in Tiffany's blog is that she doesn't capitalize titles, or beginnings of lines in her poetry. In fact, the only places she uses capitalization is in her name, and any other time that she posts her observations. Is her lack of uniformity intentional? Is is a lack of conformity to grammatical rules? Or maybe there really aren't any rules when it comes to art?" (I wish I could block quote that.) I would like to address my lack of capitalization because there is a reason that I do it. Capitalization and punctuation are helpful in clear prose. If I'm analyzing something, the most effective way to communicate my analysis is through the use of proper writing conventions. Poetry is different, though. As far as capitalization is concerned, I usually like to save it up--use it when it's really important. I also feel that the lack of punctuation (or even stanza breaks) can communicate my meaning most effectively.

As I was looking for a poem of mine with conventional or mostly conventional punctuation, I was less successful than I'd initially imagined. I found this narrative poem. I don't usually write narrative poems because I feel like they give readers the answer. When I read poetry, I want readers to make their own meaning--that's most of the fun! Most narrative poems either don't have enough to them (they are boring or angsty) or they give too much information. Give me the abstract, the mysterious, any day.

All of this sounds fabulous. I learned so much. My project went perfectly well. Except for the fact that I cheated. I actually feel a little bad putting this on my blog because the readers I have that aren't in the class might actually feel like they were lied too. Bah! I guess I don't care that much. My blog looks like I did a good job of posting on most days. But I didn't. On a lot of days, I just wasn't feeling creative. Sometimes, I'd use those days to write analysis. Actually, I got a computer (I had been using my school issued laptop for everything) about a month before the completion of the project, and I've still been too lazy to transfer all my photos over to it. This made writing photopoems at home rather difficult. I could use whatever photos I scrounged from other places (facebook or the galleries of friends). But mostly, I just wrote a lot of analysis because it was easier. Let me rephrase that--I wrote analysis on the okay days. On the bad days, I didn't bother posting at all.

I'd arrive at my blog after not posting for four days and think, "Fuck! I said I was going to post every day!" Then I'd write a bunch of posts (mostly analysis) as quickly as I could. Before I posted them, I'd change the date. Then, on other days, I'd feel creative. Poems would spring out of my fingertips like a bunny out of a magician's hat. On those days, I'd save the poems up for future days when I'd be too lazy to actually write. While I still did the same amount of work I would have done if I'd have posted everyday, I feel like I've lied to, well, the world. I feel even more guilty about this after rereading my midterm reflection. I discuss the photoblog of Christine Lebrasseur: "[her blog] has some of the most incredible photography I've seen on a blog. Yet I'm becoming increasingly certain that Christine doctors her photos to give the colors vibrancy and to make the shadows fall just right. While this does give the pictures a strong impact, I think it also takes away something in terms of honesty."

Upon rereading my project proposal I realized that I did go beyond what I proposed to do. Even if I lied a little bit to get there, my project was still a success--a huge success.

Monday, April 24, 2006

a poem I was going to try to use for my profile but I don't like it enough

ephemeral moment

collapsed in the night
staring at the universe
smell of dead grass
and dried leaves
in my hair

Sunday, April 23, 2006

Indiana



Indiana

look out your window
see muddy brown streams
nature (and thereby spring)
at its very worst
moldy shack
and dreams in the dust

Saturday, April 22, 2006

naked mannequin



naked and indecent
standing behind impeccably clean glass
for all the crowds to see

Thursday, April 20, 2006

my eyes



misty memory morning
my eyes can't hold you for long
but you are burnt into my brain

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

movie theatre sounds



movie theatre sounds

silent hush
broken
by crunching popcorn
and the sound of skittles
bouncing on the floor
and an explosion
on the screen

Monday, April 17, 2006

missing the snow



swirling shadows in your night
i cant help seeing ghosts in you
in your darkness
fresh air fills my lungs
and i am lost
with each new breath

Sunday, April 16, 2006

Why do I feel the need to explain myself?

Okay, so I wanted the post that explains the post below this one to have it's own space. You may not have noticed, but last Friday, I commented on a poem that contains links. I considered the idea of writing my own. I went a little crazy. But I'm very proud of it. Please let me know what you think about it. Is it annoying? How many of the links do you actually follow? I guess I'm just curious becauses as a websurfer, I'm usually far too lazy to follow many links. But some of my links are important to the fabric of the poem (and some of them are random asides built in for my own personal amusement). At any rate, I feel like this poem really has something to say--something other than a mere moment of existance, so please read it and follow at least a few of the links.

this poem is going to get me picked up by spam censors

hypertextual life

what? you thought this was a poem
about reality
about space and/or time
future/past/present
it is
but it's also about smooth skin
of a soft shoulder
to lean my head against
for that one everpresent instant
and yesterday has no memories
it's only you

why? is this different?
words strung together
like pony beads
on a leather string
a neverending chain
a labyrinth of signifier/signified
and yesterday has no memories
it's only you

when? that moment when
you finally look through the clouds
and see there's happiness after...
all
you wonder why
this epiphany took so many years/seconds
while dry tears stream down an empty face
and yesterday has no memories
it's only you

Saturday, April 15, 2006

poetry reading

Last night I performed in a poetry reading held at a Twin Cities Starbucks, along with my friend and fellow poet, Mr. Zack. I read a few of my own poems as well as the work of some of my favorite poets. I read my favorite poem "Transcedental Etude" by Adrienne Rich and discovered that it is much too long for a poetry reading. I also remembered that there is part of the poem I don't like as well as the section that I like the best.

As far as my own poems that I read, I read "learning the art of sleeping around", "one night drunken haze soup" and "A Spinster's Friday Night in a Corner Bar with Glass of Gin in Her Hand". I liked reading "one night drunken haze soup" because it made me feel like a real poet. I don't know why.

I've decided that Zack sounds like T.S. Elliot a little bit when he read. He's got this dry quality to his voice that is fascinating.

Friday, April 14, 2006

a new kind of allusion

This poem idea is totally cool. Perhaps I will try one in a few days (when I'm not on vacation and wanting to spend time with my friends). "Southwest 13" on g r a p e z is a google sonnet. It's a poem with links in it. While I've been considering doing something like this (and a poetry blog is certainly the place for such a poem), I've been resisting. I want my poetry to be mine. But since I've been thinking about it, I realize that it's a great way to inbed allusions. No more will you have to refer to a footnote on the bottom of a page to understand the allusion! Merely click the link! Seriously though, it's an intriguing idea that seems to have gone beyond the composition of poetry and into a new space for expressing yourself just right.

Thursday, April 13, 2006

morning missing you
vacation lasting too long
eyes smile in my mind

(please ignore the stupid girly nature of this poem.)

Wednesday, April 12, 2006

56

I kind of like poem. I don't know why. It's simple. It flows in a gentle sway that I like. I also like the fusing of nature with art--in this case fusing with music. This poem fuses the beauty of nature with the art of music and the art of composition, which is an interesting complexity.

Tuesday, April 11, 2006

eyes glued shut
from sleep and sweat
pulled close
the laugh of next door
neighbors in the night

(no photo with this poem)

Monday, April 10, 2006

the last show



the last show

heavy tears stream steadily
down your face
and mingle with sweat and glitter
plastered to your frame

memories of times past
now left forever
never again will you have that moment when...
but you will never have this moment--
or this one--

clutch it to your breast
while it's here
and then blow it to the wind
like dandelion seeds on the breath of a child

Friday, April 07, 2006

Mr. Zack has not been posting as often as he was before. I can't really blame him though because I'm not always as good about posting as I should be. He has, however, written a really cool poem called "YOUR HEART IS AN EMPTY ROOM" . It is so beautiful. I think I've read this poem at least ten times (I've been coming back to it all week), and I still want to read it again and again.

I like that this poem disproves it's title. In fact, the whole point is that the person being described has a heart that is full of something. Is that something memories? Is it something else? I don't know. I also don't know how the persona feels about the person he/she is describing. I think he/she thinks positively about the person/character being described.

Okay, here's something I just noticed. The heart metaphor was carried through to a discussion of blood.

Anyway, if you haven't clicked on the link to read this poem, you should go do it now. It's amazing and far more articulate than my crappy analysis of it.

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

Lake Superior and Sky

This photo boggles my mind. It would be an ordinary photo if it weren't upside down, and it is its placement on the page (screen?) that makes it fascinating. As I looked at this photo I thought it was taken from an airplane, which didn't make sense. How could the sky be bright blue beneath the clouds but not bright blue with the clear sky? It was only then that I read the title of the photo.

Monday, April 03, 2006

The Nutcracker Collector



The Nutcracker Collector

I return home every Christmas
and you are always there--
always happy for the season to begin.

Actually, nothing ever seems to depress you--
weigh you down with the gravity of the world's spinning.
you stare at the TV screen as if meditating.

Sunday, April 02, 2006

A random haiku with no picture

television trickes
the people full of dead fish
beneath almost life

Saturday, April 01, 2006

"Southwest 3"

g r a p e z posted a prose poem on his blog. It also had a photo along with it (actually, there are a whole series of photos with verse poems and prose poems). Since this is the first time I found poems with photos accompanying them on this site I figured I'd review a poem. "Southwest 3" is almost a short short story. But I think it's a poem because the plot doesn't seem quite strong enough to be a story. The descriptive language also suggests a poem to me. Particularly beautiful and descriptive is this sentence: "Dark windows stared out at him like the empty eyes of the man he saw that crisp fall night." I just like it. I don't know why.