Time for a little more poetic experimentation. I read Canadian writer Alain Farah’s Ravenscrag recently and loved some of the passages enough to attempt erasure poetry with them. There is a strange logic to these type of poems which makes you wonder just how much of our language is essential…
Black marble tycoon content with conformist little books:
his merchant fleet takes pleasure in being neutralised
at the Montreal governor’s estate; those pastime books
spin floridly through thirty-six rooms –
not sinking into the mind
not speaking to dark grief
but breeding ravens.
The ballrooms may be mentally ill
yet it’s always the others who
bake cakes and play ping-pong.
The dwarf stumbles down to cavernous Cameroon
and disciples of La Sape
make books with no night.
Have you ever attempted erasure poetry and discovered that each person will choose different words which resonate with them? That our subconscious will pick those words which best describe our current state?