Sitting in autoethnography today, we had a discussion about what constitutes poetry. None of the six individuals that bothered to show up to class today before Thanksgiving break felt the need to contribute anything meaningful to the discussion. Open tabs of Facebook and Tumblr held the class’ collective attention span. As my professor rambled about what makes poetry poetry, he directed our attention to an article called Frogging It that analyzes poetry, the development of writing style, and what analysis of your own past work can do for you as an author. I was particularly captivated by the following passage. Maybe it’s the stream of consciousness and heavy questions that caused me to generalize the text, but I honestly found this to be quite profound. Maybe I’ll try expressing myself in this way more often.
With love from the basement of the library,
Sarah Alexandra
What do you want? I don’t do that. Do you see? You love me? How did we get on this train? How dare you make me feel. Am I being too
clinical? Hot? Need I tell you about marriage and what doesn’t work?
He couldn’t get into your pants with a pry bar. I get scared of waking
up, realizing I hate this person in my house. What went wrong? I don’t
dwell on it. The problem is my own problem. How come she can’t love
me anymore? You can’t take it back. It is too late. Why did you say that?
Did god tell you to say that? J, K, V and I are part of you. You will go to
his wedding. He will come to yours.
How can you be free to love if you are oppressed? He was always
trying to change me into something. More palatable. But isn’t
connection where it is at? Can you ever relax? You need to hear how
smart you are. Often. How do you take from someone else and not be a
dope? How pretty you are. How can you integrate a life with someone
and still be yourself? My old girlfriend used to take her diaphragm
home on the weekend. Can you do this and still be strong? Am I being
wrong when I say you can only rely on yourself? Who said you are
inauthentic? Sometimes I am able to compensate. But this morning it
stung. Should I fight for her? Does that sound like a hallmark card? It is
my duty (per your instructions and phd) to tell you what I need. Am I
bad? How do you take from someone else and not be a dope? What
attracted me to you was getting nailed for saying something stupid in
poetry class. A peanut butter cookie in my mouth.
Already I am sitting here shaking. Hold on it’s you. Take a deep breath.
Put your face right in it. What I wanted to say but couldn’t. If you want
me to go away you better stop. I wonder if you understand what I am
saying? If you understand what you make me feel like? This is what is
Real to me. I am spinning in a circle with my head bent over backwards.
Why is she burning for me? The fan fails. Forget fears. I want to sink
into you like the wake of a boat:
