13 August 2010

Wile E. Coyote Brushes His Teeth

The following is inspired by a string of comments on a picture on facebook a few days ago. I opened a document and typed the following before going to bed:
Describe the contraption Wile E. Coyote would use to brush his teeth.
What appears below is what I eventually wrote. It was a very interesting writing exercise, as it forced me to do my best to put into words a series of visual jokes, as well as to picture something as someone else would create it. Enjoy.

A large truck drives onto the scene. We can’t be quite sure what is inside the truck, but painted on the side are four letters: ACME. The truck squeals at it stops quite suddenly. The desert dust flies in a cloud. The back door opens, and a box falls out. As soon as the box hits the ground, the truck drives away. The same four letters are oversprayed on the side of the box: ACME.

Suddenly we see Wile E. Coyote (Gingivitis preventius) run over to the box, excited for its contents. Most likely this is another crazy scheme to catch the Road Runner (Dentus nilius). As Wile E. Coyote pries the top off the box, a large toothbrush pops out, attached to a spring. Apparently oral hygiene is as important for predators in the animal kingdom as it is for humans. After all, you wouldn’t want to walk around all day with small land animals stuck between your teeth. Out of the box our carnivorous friend pulls a remote control.

Wile E. puts the oversized toothbrush in his mouth and pushes the large red button on the remote, which is also the only button. The toothbrush moves quite vigourously, up and down, as well as in tiny circles, cleaning Wile E.’s teeth in the manner recommended by most dentists. Healthy teeth are important, and 4 out of 5 siwwy wabbits recommend a device similar to this one.

On the horizon, we can see another sizable cloud of dust. As of yet, we cannot tell what said cloud is, but it’s rapidly approaching us, so we’re about to find out. The distinctive “Beep, beep!” of Road Runner resounds throughout the mountainous desert.

As he runs past us, the box from which the toothbrush is extruding is thrust into the air by the force of Road Runner’s zooming past. As it is directly above Wile E.’s head, the box seems to lose it’s momentum and fall straight down. The toothbrush as well as the spring are forced down Wile E.’s throat. He is smashed as flat as a pancake when the box continues down on him, but he soon bounces back into shape, up and down like an accordion as the spring expands and contracts. Dazed by this interaction, Wile E. tries to walk it off, still doing his accordion-esque Danse Macabre. Unfortunately, our friend is in such pain that he fails to notice as he walks off the edge of the cliff on which he was brushing his teeth. Only moments after he falls, the sound of rock cracking can be heard, as the cliff for no apparent reason breaks and falls on top of our coyote friend.

This may seem like an extraordinary event, but this is the everyday life of a coyote who uses ACME products to try to catch a bird. All he wants is a meal. Is that really so much to ask?

12 August 2010

Alarm

When I started this blog, it was intended to be a place for me to post things that I've written, and nothing else. Obviously, this is not what I have done. Anyway, here is that:

This isn't cause for
alarm,
but I'll still sound
it
quite loudly,

and those around
will all listen devoutly,

in hopes that this
isn't like the rest:
not just another test,
but an actual
matter of fact
instructions-will-follow
emergency.

But there will be no
instructions:
only destruction
of logic,
as I sit at home,
overthinking,
and blinking
in Morse
code:

. . .
- - -
. . .

08 August 2010

On Paradelles

There are many difficult forms of poetry that we have taken from ancient France. Rondeau may not be that difficult, but we up the ante a bit with the villanelle, and writing a quality sestina is quite a challenge, or at least an exercise. Scarcely though will one find a form anywhere that is nearly as difficult as a paradelle.

Paradelles are 24 lines long. They consist of 4 six-line stanzas (sextets). In each of the first 3 stanza, line 1 and 2 are identical, as are lines 3 and 4. Lines 5 and 6 are then a rearrangement of the words from lines 1 and 3. The final sextet is a rearranging of lines 1 and 3 of the 3 previous stanzas.

This is often regarded as one of the most difficult forms to write. Scarcely will a poet undertake this task. Too often when they do, the poem ends up looking like "Paradelle for Susan," by Billy Collins, the last line of which reads as follows:
Darken the mountain, time and find was my into it was with to to.

Awkward. Collins received a lot of criticism over this. It was generally regarded as his taking an ancient form which he did not understand and trying to use it.

There is only one problem with this: a paradelle is not actually an ancient French form. As a matter of fact, "Paradelle for Susan" was the very first paradelle ever written, way back in 1998. It was invented by Billy Collins as a means of criticizing the way in which some poets cling to form to their own detriment(1). However, it was believed to be an ancient French form because of a footnote to the poem (I believe the only footnote in Picnic Lightning), which begins as follows:
NOTE: The paradelle is one of the more demanding French fixed forms, first appearing in the langue d'oc love poetry of the eleventh century.
Since the publication of "Paradelle for Susan," there have been a few paradelles written that actually use the form to create a good poem. An anthology of paradelles has even been released. This ancient French form has a very interesting 12-year history.

I have a project. I considered writing a paradelle, but decided against it. I'm not saying I never will. However, that is not the nature of this project. This project is heavily inspired by the word rearrangement of the paradelle with the parallelism of train tracks. The poem will consist of 2 parts (this may or may not mean 2 stanzas), each consisting of the exact same words rearranged. Further, the 2 parts are going to be opposite sides of the coin, depicting the same thing in 2 different ways.

Long term, I want to reach 54 words. Thus far I've written one, a whopping 15 words. This poem is called "First Date." It brings us first romance and idealism, then awkwardness and the desire to focus on everything but the date(2).

Ladies and gentlemen, without further ado, "First Date."

You and I.
The date.
The chairs and the table.
Under the surface? A mystery…

Table and chairs date under a surface mystery.
The you. The I.
And the the.


1 Sometimes a change of form can be a good thing. One cannot help of thinking of Frost's discussion of whether or not to take his own life in that snowy meadow one evening, and his final decision not to which is offset by his change of meter. Collins recognized this, one of the many reasons he is my favorite living poet, if not my absolute favorite poet.
2 Obviously, I've never experienced this second half, as I'm never awkward at all. Or else I've never experienced either part because I can't get a date. Either way, I think I understand the concept.