Step 1. Write word-centos of poems by Jacques
Fleury, Michael Rothenberg, Meri Tumanyan
and Richard Vargas. [Note: I listened to Miles
Davis’ “In A Silent Way” while doing the word-
cento of Michael’s poem.] (In non-shpiggidity-
shpaggidity speak, a word-cento is basically a
rearrangement of the words of a poem however
you see fit, but only using the words of the poet,
particularly the words in only one poem of said
saint.)

 

UNTITLED

(word-cento of Jacques Fleury’s
“Branded: Black as Means of Commodity” *)

Black civilization imbricated cacophony
of ideology
in history’s capitalism
of a new usurpation society wearing
protest & liberation black, bearing
scattered investment
worthy of Marxism,
worthy of patriarchal slavery—
dominoes darkest derivative detained,
disparaged—
willing to elevate marginalized swagger,
willing to maneuver escape
manifested “worth,”
working humanity fraught,
a promise of “worthy” —
a run of shame-casted labels sedate
this country.

* Original poem by Jacques Fleury from
Chain Letter to America (AuthorHouse
2019), reprinted in The Somerville Times
on Aug. 12, 2020.

 

UNTITLED

(word-cento of Michael Rothenberg’s
“Ode to Tralfamadorian Goose” *)

Disguised co-creator, mother of wonder
lost, luscious lotus shrapnel to
silver moments hungering for transcendent ease
in rouge-caged cocoon,
gentle secret stroked me beyond attachments—
Golden Goddess Iris weaving heaven already mourning
transient greed

Metal honey, come tell me how we can outlive Satan
with promises unfolding love’s blush spirit-keys?
Earth, muddy guilt bubble, ready me awake
with ambitious purple true!—

Winged fate swells up Freud out-forgiving
Lolita & Jesus’ hope halo, my forehead,
Shy, moist revelation from a hysterical harp
marks a classical confidante so smooth
you gift Cupid chocolate moon-pillows.

Your Tralfamadorian tongue painting truth,
a vow of pearls old as war, roses & poetry.
Desire wriggles in a dream,
someone else’s lyrical baby-talk diplomacy
dipped in unquenchable KGB caverns of
fire & fiction.

Who knows of digging up Isadora Gardens’ History,
a tomb of pastries & Intourist banners
invisible newspaper moan—
tossing out playful whispers of democracy
with empire’s secrecy waiting for your call?

Your blue suspicion of this imperfect dream-wrecked solvent
giggles someone else
forever gone.

* Original poem by Michael Rothenberg is the
Winner of the PIP Gertrude Stein Awards for
Innovative Poetry in English 2006-2007. First
published in Golden Handcuffs Review I, no. 7
(Summer/Fall 2006).

 

UNTITLED

(word-cento of Meri Tumanyan’s
“Words” *)

Sorrow re-invented a roar
of pearls so freely introverted,
I numbed unrequited breath
until the self shivered shells
without a sigh.

* Original poem by Meri Tumanyan
from Love in the Time of Corona
(Xilbris US 2020).

 

UNTITLED

(word-cento of Richard Vargas’
“two-coyote-day at Rinconada
Canyon, New Mexico” *)

Brittle wisdom etched in winter dark
whispered volcanoes deep
into ancient quiet.
Man anchored breath, black
into the cold desert of stars.

* Original poem by Richard Vargas
from Guernica, Revisited published
with Press 53.

 

Step 2. Write a meditative insert sitting on your
couch, with the fire humming in the background,
breaths, listening to Weather Report, “Birdland,”
then first 7 ½ minutes of Jaco Pastorius live in
Montreal Jazz Festival (1982). [Note: A few of
the lines were scratch-paper throwaway lines
as well as a poem fragment written in part while
listening to President-Elect Joe Biden’s speech
on Saturday, November 7.] (A meditative insert
is kinda tough to explain. Really, it’s whatever
gets your grooviness going… but in a meditative
way and with a hard-on for poetry.)

 

MEDITATIVE INSERT

Temple kingdom dried up the flames of noise endless.
I solve the Rubik cube wide open.
Dreams plateau tears & forget fears
Sweet ocean, a new silence awaits us
Old-crimson jasmine & embryonic sage dusts
history dawn with hail & hosannavino noir!
a bible body, broken alive in future years.
We stand on a forgetful point,
looking at the carpet, serenity,
humming rollercoaster hymns.
We stand on a forgetful point,
the apex of pretension,
crafted by hummingbirds, rainbows
& ambrosial solipsism,
melancholy magnolia magnetism
ingested interstellar suicide—
Away chaos clouds clowning a square dance
ahead of my body,
my bible body broken alive in future years…
Somewhere, someone else…
beyond well-beaten limits
counting tomorrow until I am inebriated
searching for the next spectral fix
in the blinding iridescent hierarchy
zenosyne schadenfreude lapses
into forgetful darkness
behind the crystalline manna moon
with mid-nightingales break up sex
at dawn, dusty hope houses
my country is a crack motel
sick sacrament ransacked by choir liars’
nostalgic sunshine lair
a perplexed ocean of stars tarred,
feathered by impotent
messianic bird feed frenzy.

Fly, I see you Earth,
counting up those tomorrows falling down
until the austere astral autumn agony argon
is gone, blitz’d byzantine bye-bye—
hope filled in the dust-pile insanity.
Yes, I see you Earth
deep in the dark blood-money pool of love.
I ache for salvation.
Blue silence kisses my face alone with darkness.

 

Step 3. Combine word-centos and meditative insert
while listening to John Coltrane, “Time after Time;”
Dave Brubeck Quartet, “Take Five;” Frank Zappa,
“Suicide Chump” (10/13/1978, Capital Theatre);
Grand Funk Railroad, “Inside Looking Out” (1970,
Live); Quicksilver Messenger Service, Happy Trails  
(1969) full album; and Quicksilver Messenger Service
12/28/75 Winterland Arena full concert.

 

MY COUNTRY IS A CRACK MOTEL

We stand at a forgetful point,
humming rollercoaster hymns,
looking at the carpet, serene ambitious purple true—
We stand at a forgetful point,
at the apex of pretension,
weaving heaven
crafted by hummingbirds, rainbows
& ambrosial solipsism,
transient greed, empire secrecy already disguised my country.
My country is a crack motel.
Counting tomorrow until I am inebriated
searching for the next spectral fix
in the blinding iridescent hierarchy
zenosyne schadenfreude lapses
into forgetful darkness
behind the crystalline manna moon
with mid-nightingales break up sex
at dawn, dusty hope houses.
My country is a crack motel.
KGB caverns, come, tell me
how we can outlive Satan
with someone else, waiting for your call?
Winged fate feathered by impotent messianic birdfeed frenzy
swells up Freud out-forgiving Lolita & Jesus’s hope halo,
my forehead lost.
Lost luscious lotus shrapnel, metal honey so smooth.
My country is a crack motel.
A run of shame-casted labels sedate this country.
Black civilization imbricated cacophony
of ideology
in history’s capitalism.
Man anchored breath, black
into the cold desert of stars,
yes, a perplexed ocean of stars tarred,
digging up Isadora Gardens’ History, roar, re-invented,
ransacked by Golden Goddess Iris choir liars’
lair: KGB Intourist banners,
invisible newspaper nostalgia moan—
Melancholy magnolia magnetism
ingested interstellar suicide without a sigh
away cloud clouds clowning a square dance
ahead of my body,
my bible body broken alive in future years…
Somewhere, somewhere else…

Fly, I see you Earth, o law, olam omer
counting up those tomorrows falling down
until the self shivered shells,
until the austere astral autumn agony argon
is gone, blitz’d byzantine bye-bye—
mere fire & fiction
beyond well-beaten limits,
counting silver moments hungering for transcendent ease
willing to elevate marginalized swagger,
willing to maneuver escape
manifested “worth,”
a tomb of pastries, giggles,
chocolate moon-pillow promises of “worthy,”
a vow of pearls old as war, roses & poetry,
hummingbirds & rainbows.

Hope filled in the dust-pile insanity,
Yes, I see you Earth
deep in the dark blood-money pool of love.
Shy, moist revelation from hysterical harp-scattered investment,
worthy of Marxism,
worthy of patriarchal slavery—
you gift Cupid your Tralfamadorian tongue painting truth.

Ancient quiet
dipped in a dream
wriggles around rouge-caged cocoon
with promises unfolding love’s blush spirit-keys?
I ache for salvation,
willing to toss out playful whispers of democracy,
someone else’s lyrical baby-talk diplomacy—
dominoes darkest derivative detained,
disparaged
Dreams plateau tears & forget fears
of a new usurpation society, working humanity fraught.
Brittle wisdom etched in winter dark
whispers volcanoes deep
into your blue suspicion of this imperfect, dream-wrecked
solvent

Unquenchable pearls so freely introverted
I numbed unrequited breath,
wearing protest & liberation black, bearing
me beyond attachments—

Sweet ocean, a new silence awaits us forever gone
Old-crimson jasmine & embryonic sage dusts
history dawn with hail & hosannavino noir!
My temple kingdom dried up the flames roar endless,
a sick sorrow sacrament,
a bible body, broken alive in future years.
My country is a crack motel.
We stand at a forgetful point.
Blue silence kisses my face aloof with darkness.

 

Right side displays the word-centos. On the left is the meditative insert. Writing shows the ordering and inserting the one into the other. Yellow highlighted lines are lines not used in final piece. Yellow highlighted bracketed x’s – i.e., [x] – indicate the lines were indeed used after typing up this image. (Note: some of the yellow highlighted lines might not have corresponding highlighted [x]’s where there should be some.) The color of writing shows to which word-cento the words correspond. Jacques Fleury word-cento is blue, Michael Rothenberg is green, Meri Tumanyan red and Richard Vargas black. Black writing in brackets indicates rearranged lines or phrased from the meditative insert part.

 

Joshua Corwin, a Los Angeles native, is a neurodiverse, Pushcart Prize-nominated poet and Spillwords Press Publication of the Month winner. His debut poetry collection Becoming Vulnerable (2020) details his experience with autism, addiction, sobriety and spirituality. He has lectured at UCLA, performed at the 2020 National Beat Poetry Festival, and his Beat poetry is to be anthologized alongside Ferlinghetti, Hirschman, Ford, Coleman and weiss late this year (Sparring Omnibus, Mystic Boxing Commission). He hosts the poetry podcast “Assiduous Dust” and teaches poetry to neurodiverse individuals and autistic addicts in recovery at The Miracle Project, an autism nonprofit. Corwin’s collaborative collection A Double Meaning, with David Dephy, is currently seeking publication. He also has forthcoming collaborative poetry projects with Ellyn Maybe including Ghosts Sing into the World’s Ear (Ghost Accordion series 1st Wave, Mystic Boxing Commission).