STEP 1. Write a word-cento. (In non-shpiggidity-shpaggidity
speak, this basically means just rearrange 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 poet.)
Let’s do a word-cento of Liza Zayas’ “Visionary Hoax.”
Blind / Blind Vision
Perfect sight couldn’t see me.
I’m just a fantasy, an apple
morphing to belong to his perfect
nightmare.
I saw exercises
which clearly
Meant nothing
nothing
but dreams.
Dreams of honey,
Dreams of maybe me.
Maybe,
I don’t see
or feel
the Right Vision.
Maybe,
I was change.
Or maybe,
I was
thought.
Thought must be
in front of
my identity.
Everytime you
were perfect,
I saw
me.
STEP 2. Compose a meditative insert. (This 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.
Music is a terrific drug to get you
in the spirit…)
For instance:
BANG a gong in the corner—
Look! beautiful Santa Monica!
Turn on Miles Davis,
In A Silent Way
(…start about 6 min in…)
Put pen to paper &
start writing!
Meditative Insert
Your hatred
for my blind-sighted nest,
forgiveness walks in waves
through the door, open-ended
questions to answers I lay at your feet.
I have smoked my last cherry blossom
long ago.
There’s no more sorrow, for which to forgive
you, my dear.
I am a landmine beyond all explanation.
Quiet your soul & seek me no longer.
This will be the sacrificial lambchop
to happiness.
Take me with you,
when you fly
beyond the hills.
Gardens shall praise
your name;
guarded by disgust.
I forgot my memory long ago.
That’s why I’m a monk,
a temple snake.
You cannot absolve my own
absolution.
This is my last request, o
pestilence.
Where the flame meets eye,
nightfall looms in the brilliant corner;
the room is called darkness.
It’s lost its shadow long ago.
O, it’s lost its shadow long ago.
STEP 3.
Inject the meditative insert into the word-cento.
Voilà!
Blind / Blind Vision (final piece)
Perfect sight couldn’t see me.
Your hatred
for my blind-sighted nest
I’m just a fantasy, an apple
questions to answer I lay at your feet
morphing to belong to his perfect
nightmare.
through the door, open-ended
forgiveness walks in waves
I saw exercises, smoked my last cherry blossom
which clearly
Meant nothing
nothing
but dreams.
beyond the hill.
I am landmine beyond all
Dreams of honey,
beyond all
Dreams of maybe me.
for which there’s no more sorrow.
Quiet your soul & seek me no longer.
Maybe,
I don’t see
or feel
the Right Vision.
Take me with you.
Maybe,
I was change.
Guarded by disgust.
Or maybe,
I was
thought.
A monk, a temple snake.
You cannot absolve my own
absolution.
Thought must be
in front of
my identity.
Where the flame meets eye, my memory long ago
Everytime you
were perfect,
I saw nightfall loom in the brilliant corner of
me, the room called darkness.
It lost its shadow long ago.
O, it lost its shadow long ago.
Joshua Corwin, a Los Angeles native, is a neurodiverse, Pushcart Prize-nominated poet. His debut poetry collection Becoming Vulnerable (2020) details his experience with autism, addiction, sobriety and spirituality. He has lectured at UCLA, 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.
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