Tag Archives: literary

NaPoWriMo Day 11 – Findings

Standard

But is it —?
Is the question of knowledge
of the first definition of literature.
It could be a laundry list,
her recipes wouldn’t be,
moving through historically
would be the question
not the matter of reading:
only certain things are admitted.

You’ve also got this word literary
which doesn’t get you very far
but an automatic selection:
this person has literature,
do you have French?
This weasel word literary,
the realm of letters or books,
two is the process
three is the product;
but the question you’re burning to ask,
educated to a certain level,
being told what’s good
in the particular generation –
it would exclude poetry.
If someone’s gone through the trouble
– may I pass round,
shall we just talk through
(rather – jolly good)
(and yes yes).

A spiritual offering:
the depth of a shopping list
if it’s about to launch.
It starts out with we
it can swallow other
fifteen minutes,
you don’t get that in
whole sets of
judgement of the
criteria of the
familiar.

The reveal:
a property, how we read it,
we can find elements;
today we would not,
conventionally.
The product of labour
presented as a question:
is it literature.

Does it make sense? Not that much, really, but still a lot more than I expected. This is a found poem, based on overheard bits of today’s UEA Café Conversation, titled ‘But is it Literature?’. Much as the session itself, the poem ends at the beginning, inevitably.

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NaPoWriMo Day 22 – I Want a Language

Standard

I want a language spanning galaxies
reaching from limitless end to limitless end.
I want a language so minutely detailed
it can talk of quarks and bosons
and conversations between electrons.
I want a language that says what it means
referring to reality with each spoken thought.
I want a language that lies past
similes, onto metaphors, untruthfully signifying
a reality too hard to grasp.
I want a language that fits like a coat
with enough pockets to stash words in
so that when I find something new
I can take some of it with me.
I want a language a little tight around the waist
just enough to be uncomfortable
so I might stretch it and even break it.
I want a language that spits in the face
of structures and generations and derivations.
I want a language that does not care
if it is pure, tainted, original or functional.
I want a language that does not fall short
when trying to talk about…
Most of all, I want a language with which to tell stories
that may have happened once upon a time, or now
or in days still to come.