So, the final count is in…
– 30 poems for Oulipost
– 29 poems for NaPoWriMo (one was shared with Oulipost)
– 37 poems for Poetic Asides (bonus ones are thanks to Two-for-Tuesday prompts, but I’m also counting one of them as three because it was three sections of fourteen sonnet-ish lines each; if that doesn’t suffice, there were at least two drafts I threw out without showing them to the world)
– 2 poems for Monday workshop
– 2 poems for Thursday workshop
Which means that, holy shit, this post contains the one hundredth new draft I have done for the month of April. Which means additionally that I am going to just not write anything new for the month of May, I think…
This is not a feat I’m eager to repeat, but as it had been a while since I was in any kind of generative mode, it’s nice to be back in one. I’ll spend the next several weeks going through what I’ve written, and my hope is to pull out ten poems that I can edit and develop and turn into something worthwhile. It’s been a wild ride.
Today’s Oulipost is to use pieces of all the other Oulipost poems one wrote during the month… and so this is what I’ve got. Enjoy!
Libertine Composer Premieres Manifesto for Flute and Bodies, in F Major
My rhythms are European imports:
Broadway fades through observation of
erotic society. I include particular
attention to inhalation:
the denied modesties and the Deeds
Not Mentioned. When the brothel
turns to jungle, my bedroom mechanism
knows which glory to shoot.
A flair for the dramatic and a new,
reckless grace: this hedonist wants
semen to twist into sea ice.
The sex-party runs coronas over memory
and men’s room fantasies.
My alphabet of interplay arcs from artist
to zouave, and every motherfucker
one could covet in between.
Mortality is an architecture
I’m burning out of by kissing like wild birds.
I prepare my pure philosophy:
great people know what regular people
want. A liberation miracle. A vision
in emptiness. A man in motion who purrs
specifics, beautiful poets, a honey-water
woman with a wonderful wish.
I crave and murmur and make it all
into the music of desire.