Posts tagged ‘video poem’

November 22, 2010

Blameless Mouth Poem: Echolalia

“Echolalia” is part of one of several series in Blameless Mouth. This series traces the story of Adam and Eve from Genesis, from Eve’s perspective. What is unique about the series is that it is a crown of single and double sonnets. Echolalia is a double sonnet. I didn’t use the typical sonnet stanza lengths, so that the sonnet form wasn’t too overt.

My process for this series was, in some ways, similar to my work on my mermaid poems from earlier this year. I began this crown of sonnets from a single poem. I wrote the poem “Learning to Love the Taste of Apple,” first. This poem describes the moment when Eve eats from the Tree of Knowledge and information rushes at her all at once. Once I had that poem out, I realized that Eve had a lot more to say. Knowing this, I researched the Book of Genesis and began writing her story, in her voice, from the moment that God created the universe through Adam and Eve’s eviction from Eden.

Out of all of the poems in the series, Echolalia is my favorite. I feel it’s where I really found Eve’s voice, from the root of her frustration to her hunger for freedom from her assigned role. Once I had this poem in place, I was able to revise the rest of the poems with this emergent voice in mind.

As a side note, the word echolalia is a psychiatric term for a disorder where patients uncontrollably repeat words spoken by someone else in their presence. It also describes how a baby repeats sounds vocally until they learn to talk.  I thought it a fitting title for what Eve is experiencing with Adam at this point in her life.

Please read below for the poem’s text and for the specific image credits from the video.

Echolalia

The blank shapes blurred before the perfect man:
a photo out of focus, a world obscured

beneath blue waves. He began to babble words,
gold light became sun, brown lines became land,

gray fluttering hearts turned into birds, now
forever after. All his Father made,

he named, erased their easy edges, traced
straight lines. Then, something new, an undertow

of need devoured him, wants he couldn’t name.
The perfect man moaned new words, words not based

in God’s idyllic world. I need this space
inside me filled. Lord, feed this empty pain.

He curled, a tight knot, rocked himself to sleep.
He dreamt of falling down holes, black and deep.

He dreamt of falling as the Lord reached deep
inside him, finding me, submerged

below his skin, awake and purple faced from no
clean air. He ripped me out of Adam, feet,

then curled arms, flattened head. Now, it’s been said
that I was made from his rib. This is wrong.

No, I was made from that initial song
of emptiness, the first words that he said

that were not names, were not repetitions
of His words. He spoke me into being,

with words of complete sorrow, freeing
his body from their weight. I was the one

made to free him, not made to be his mate.
Though, in my telling, I still came too late.

***

Image credits, in order of appearance:

***

If you want to stay connected to my progress with bringing Blameless Mouth to publication, I hope that you will join the Blameless Mouth Facebook page.

July 31, 2010

Video Poem: What the Carney Says

Original Text:

What the Carney Says

I may not be flexible, agile, or strong, but damn
if I can’t spot a sucker at twenty feet. I crow to him,

loud enough for the whole midway to hear, but really,
I speak to him. I strut on my soapbox, suggest

the existence of miracles and mysteries never seen
before this day or time. I lie. I advertise

two-headed horses, bearded ladies, and Siamese twins. I give him
a poorly lit tent, a voluptuous man with a  five o’clock shadow,

siblings so close they hold hands under their costume.
I trade in illusion and expectation and I offer

disappointment in return. This is the way of the world:
Buyer beware. Don’t believe everything you hear. Learn

to be satisfied with your lot in life. There are no mysteries
that cannot be solved. No miracles, but the hot smell

of sawdust and horse shit, and the feeling of a woman burying
her face in your shoulder at the sight of horse with a dummy head.

***

The beauty of a video camera is that I can shoot video with only the sense of what I plan on doing with it.

While on vacation in Madison this week, my father and I visited The House on the Rock.  For those of you who do not live in the Upper Midwest, HOTR is a large house/museum turned tourist trap built by a reclusive eccentric named Alex Jordan. The rooms include (but are *not* limited to), an indoor carousel, a replica of a 19th century street, an ocean room with a plaster whale, a doll house and more.   It is filled to the gills with Jordan’s collections of stuff, from antique lighters to marionettes.  It is deeply cool and deeply creepy.  Even though I spent five years (during college) living near HOTR, I never visited. I missed out.  For an interesting perspective on HOTR, I recommend reading Neil Gaiman’s American Gods, as the location figures prominently in the plot.

At the HOTR, I began shooting video of the music machines and indoor carousel, all designed by Jordan.  When I returned, I realized that the video would make an interesting backdrop for my poem “What the Carney Says.” After a little tinkering and voice recording, my very first video poem was born.  My hope is that others will follow, as I continue to experiment with my new toy.

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