4 American Sentences
The image above was first used with my poem "The Girl Who Loved Hemingway."
I suspect she might also love American sentences.
Allen Ginsberg's American sentence, in case you might not know, is a response to his feeling that haiku did not work well in English. It is simply 17 syllables arranged how ever you like, and it must be, of course, a sentence. (That doesn't mean it can't have periods within it.) While haiku are normally concerned with nature, an American sentence can be about anything. Kerry, at The Imaginary Garden, first told me about them. And so here are four I wrote today:
my joints grind like old bricks.
my cane is sturdy.
sun is strong.
dog, i am your mother
though i am not a dog.
bed is yours to hog.
baseball on tv.
dog and me on couch.
we sleep through several innings.
in age i find beauty in more faces
than i ever did when young.
And so, I have written 30 poems in 30 days this April. As I depart The Imaginary Garden With Real Toads--like a tv actress or a back-up singer embarking on a preposterous and disastrous solo career--I want to say that the inspiration from all of you has been instrumental in the writing of so many of the poems on this blog, Coablack's House of Pain, and Black Mamba. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for everything. I will still see you when I appear as a "legendary" (read: washed-up!) guest on the show. (Fireblossom as Aunt Biddy, with one line: "Follow your heart, Chrissie!") xoxoxox
a little road music: