by Zachary Schomburg
Zachary Schomburg setting off a few sparks
The spark that happens from these two unrelated tropes will be the heart of this poem.
One of the tenets of surrealism from Andre Breton’s Le Manifeste du Surréalisme is the concept of manufacturing a “spark” set off by touching together two images/words that have no logical relationship with one another. This creates a third thing, the space between those two points, that has never before existed, something a reader has no way of intellectually compartmentalizing. While Breton is mostly talking about the spark between singular images, I think a similar electricity, that third undefinable thing, can happen while putting whole tropes together, clashing metaphors, etc.
This is not a new idea — the Italians were way ahead of the French here. Almost all sonnets have some kind of volta, some turn of logic about three-quarters of the way through the poem (depending on whether it is Petrarchian or Shakespearean) that puts the poem’s last lines in emotional, narrative, conceptual contrast with what preceded them. It is where the poem gets turned on its head never to return to its original uprightness; it is where the poem hinges. I believe that without some sort of volta, a poem falls flat and is one-dimensional because it has nothing to butt up against.
So, what I propose is that we write a poem in two parts and then later combine those parts at its volta.
Part one
Write a missive to someone you knew, personally, who died a while ago, someone for whom you haven’t grieved in some time. Tell them about a very specific memory between the two of you, perhaps one that they wouldn’t even necessarily remember. This shouldn’t take up more than five to seven lines or so. For example, I would tell my grandpa that I remember being a child and sitting on his lap, watching the Kansas City Royals on television, that he had a glass of ice milk, and that his chewing tobacco smelled minty.
Part two
Make a minor confession, something you haven’t told anyone before (but that isn’t necessarily a major secret — or hell, confess what you want). Perhaps you’ll write about something you’ve stolen, some small moment of indiscretion, transgression or weakness, something for which you hold some guilt. This should only be a few lines long. Maybe the last of those lines can address how it made you feel to steal this thing (or whatever your confession might be).
These parts have nothing to do with one another. In other words, your confession does not relate to your memory of your lost loved one. When putting both parts together, find a turn of phrase that creates a narrative shift — something like “I wanted to tell you … .”
Also, I should be clear that what we’re doing has nothing to do with Surrealism. In fact, what will be created with my suggestions will be far from it. But that spark that happens from these two unrelated tropes will be the heart of this poem. Hopefully, you’ll be able to get at something that you can emotionally understand but not articulate.
Zachary Schomburg is the author of Scary, No Scary (Black Ocean, 2009) and The Man Suit (Black Ocean, 2007). He is a co-editor of both Octopus Magazine and Octopus Books. A collaborative chapbook with Emily Kendal Frey, “Team Sad,” was published in 2009 by Cinematheque Press. He lives in Portland, Ore. You can find out more about his poetry at his blog, The Lovely Arc.
I really like turns in poems — “verses” (turnings) or sonnet voltas or the turning of language from literal to figurative.
This essay makes me wonder — can it can be said that non-verse prose poems have turns too? Turns of logic? Turns of surreal imagery?
This prompt is really challenging. Perhaps it needs to be turned on its head! Here’s one way — maybe I’ll write about a concept or idea or abstraction which, for me, has died. I think of the book Necessary Losses, about cherished illusions or dreams that must be shed along the path to maturity. Or, perhaps I’ll write about Lot’s wife who stole a glance backward when she wasn’t supposed to (I can’t stop looking backward either). Or perhaps I’ll write about my favorite myth of Persephone — I think one interpretation is that her mother actually let her be stolen into the underworld (or at least looked the other way when the kidnapping was happening).
One of my most beloved sonnets about loss is Edna St. Vincent Millay’s “Sonnet II” which starts “Time does not bring relief; you all have lied /
Who told me time would ease me of my pain! / I miss him…” A sonnet about the failure of time to “turn” away grief.
[...] This poem was written for Read Write Poem Prompt #117: Create A Hinge, by guest celebrity poet Zachary [...]
Great prompt. I am already scribbling away!
Thankyou for this generous and erudite comment
Therese.Some interesting ideas here.
Wow, great prompt!
[...] Process notes: Read Write Poem prompt here. [...]
[...] son, Life, Poetry, son, unfulfilling, ungratified by Donald Harbour This poem is in response to Read Write Poem Prompt #117 from big Zac Schomburg “Create a hinge”, thus be we become unhinged. Smiles, thou who [...]
Well, I DID try this, tho’ not sure I did it right. I like this prompt, and think I’ll try another one.
[...] 11, 2010 · Leave a Comment Zachary Schomburg’s prompt, “create a hinge” has been with me all week. What a challenge! Not sure that I completed the prompt but it [...]
[...] * * Rough first draft in response to Zachary Schomburg’s prompt over at Read Write Poem. It’s a great prompt, worthy of many, many more [...]
This is my first shared post on RWP. This prompt was challenging, and I see my draft undergoing some re-braiding and un-braiding, but I’m excited about the prospect.
http://avniously.blogspot.com/2010/03/for-free.html
It’s a working draft, ready to be braided and re-braided with revision. What a great prompt!
What a great prompt. I have a feeling I’ll be braiding and re-braiding my poem for a while, but I’m so excited about it!
http://avniously.blogspot.com/2010/03/for-free.html
Are you reading my mind…
I have been MIA, but I am back…
[...] my response to two Read Write Poem prompts, #117 and #118. I began with Zachary Schomberg’s Create A Hinge prompt, but couldn’t get the poem finished. This week’s Wordle prompt helped me to edit [...]