Blackout poetry is the unusual modern art form of digging poems out of the words on printed pages. I love it, because I feel like writing is “finding” stories. Even if that’s a little flowery for you, we all know what it’s like to search for the right words and finally “find” them. Blackout poetry is the same thing but in a very concrete, hands-on kind of way. It’s a great creative exercise, perfect for those writer-blocked moments. And it’s very satisfying. I feel like some sort of literary archaeologist, or a codebreaker, or a master detective. Today I’ve selected The Life of Samuel Johnson, by James Boswell. (I know, I know, I almost fell asleep just reading the title. Let’s see what we can find.) The imagination in water,
and other mirrors, not very large, not yet made. Do not remember, not certain, paved with night, wrought from cast marble, another between them. The various sands said I could not learn. Which glass is moved in all directions? Their surfaces, not polished, lest time were told. Covered, strained, equal; held down by which I did not understand. Which is last thought, swam in the quicksilver. More rises at the end, over the glass. Much is then heightened, built, built, but only to us. Remember His garden.
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AuthorWriter of words. Author of stories. Pyramid of gnomes pretending to be a human. I talk about writing and books and stuff. Sign up now to receive updates!
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