South Loop Poetry Club
weapons of war.
existent cut up.
20th century.
existed long before.
Blacks out all surrounding
text.
American spotlighting.
Love,
Nature,
sweetly
You see
the
green grass and
ancient trees
dark night with sparks of stars
on fire so its love may be seen
by her beautiful eyes
A southwesterly wind, alternately hot and
cold as an African wind, bent the winter trunk of the
fig tree. The white and gray branches shook rigidly
The twigs were skeletal fingers at which the
from the open
window the dank odors attract the beast
a howling call
the flowered foam
to long introductory pleasantries,
a little sad
news
no
gray area,
were primary and necessary,
nothing else existed, the reflections that these
categories provoked – only a resigned acceptance,
a task rendered
easier
little golden clouds
by heart.
very interesting,
by the docks and receiving
act restorative justice,
poetry branch
popularity
nature,
written
There’s The only “rule”
from
“Crossouts,” where sections of
text, are probably the
popularised
be more creative in how using things
such as sand and flowers
poem
blacks out
my brain / is / a / stunning / joke.”
cryptic snatches of wisdom, wry quips given significance by their spotlighting.
faces with the slight hesitation
often seized her.
cross
island,
this is how I am. And they accepted her as she was.
other life at
last born
knowing something about
illusions.
ferryboat.
sun
laughter
moon. a weight had fallen
from her shoulders. from time to time,
decisive “yes” or “no,”
bitterness, something close to joy.
A air
awoke with the sensation
she was in the city,
the blinds
dangling
in the wind. house
certain affinity with the island
narrow
luxurious room
octagonal tiles engraved with stark and
and
Weapon of war
can play all these parts and more
poetry starts from
a new, slimmer text a surge in
nature
the mockery of
ideas a comic twist,
existed long before
There’s no one rule
rather than written
different kinds of
articles or documents
creative
chosen passages.
black out all the
brain Many
cryptic snatches of wisdom,
spotlighting.
with
shield-bearer in front of him,
David,
said Am I a dog
Philistine cursed David
Philistine said to David,
Give your flesh to the birds
But David said to the Philistine,
come to me with sword and spear and javelin,
This very
into my hand, and I will
strike you down and cut off your head;
the birds of the air and to the wild animals
does not save by sword and spear,
beautiful woman loved so much
kind and gracious in all her ways,
I trust she has heaven’s gate.
It is now time to take back the keys
to your heart,
and follow her on the true road.
Delivered
weightless, free,
All things run to death, and the soul
must be lightened for the dangerous journey.
Weapon of war act of justice,
can play these parts and more.
borrowing words and ideas and giving
existed poems
found poetry,
erasure poetry starts from an existent document, obliterating parts of it to
in popularity due
to its “instagrammable”
the mockery of another
The only “rule” is that words
must be taken away from a pre-existing text,
erasure poetry in a
2018 blogpost, where sections of
are probably the
using things
such as sand and flowers to obliterate the chosen passages
poem
Many erasure
such cryptic snatches of wisdom.
slaughter
picture
Renaissance,
painted
ones!
grinning skulls;
vertbrae
old
curious
betrayed
people
Weapon war
play
poetry
new, type
nature,
words ideas
existe
no
“rule”
text
American
my country!
orphans
mother of dead
petty misery.
Come and see
cypress, owl, and
broken thrones
evils
world fragile
Weapon of war,
can play and more.
erasure poetry
surge in popularity
20th century.
twist,
There’s way to create
away from existing text,
American poet erasure poetry in a
newspaper or
a poem
popularised by Newspaper Blackout Poems.
passages.
blacks out
“my brain / is / a / stunning / joke.”
significance
Alone and lost in thought
of the empty field
my eyes open wide
no other way
from what I can plainly see
believe that mountain
all know my heart
“instagrammable”
parody the mockery
best-known type
more creative
and and flowers
wry quips