I said yesterday that I might post something I’d written at the American Poetry workshops in Nottingham, and then it seemed presumptuous to include what is no more than an initial workshop draft in a post where I mention so many recognised and respected poets, so I didn’t.
Here, though, is a piece from the prose poetry workshop that I may come back to and try and see where it leads. The words in italics are from a piece by Charles Simic.
It’s snowing, says someone who has peeked into the dark night, and I wonder if the night is less dark because of the snow and if snow on a moonlit night tastes different from snow on a dark night or snow in sunshine; I wonder whether the sun adds flavour to the snow flakes and if each flake has its own six-edged flavour and how a raindrop feels when it is caught outside on a dark night and how it feels when it feels itself solidifying into white crystals like feathers and whether each feather sings a separate note and whether the snow drift at dawn will sing like a flock of birds awakening, and whether I will hear it.
I’ve hardly made any changes since I wrote it on Sunday afternoon, although I did add the last six words. I suspect that if I do come back and revise it, I might add lineation and create a far more traditional poem format, as, reading it, I want to be able to guide the reading with pauses and emphases, which is what I think linebreaks allow me to do. Perhaps this is why I shy away from prose poetry.