This is a prompt of erasure or, recombination. Below is a paragraph from Annie Dillard’s book, The Writing Life. Create a poem, either by erasing words from the paragraph, or recombining the words that are already there (you don’t have to use all the words, of course. And you can add new words, if you wish).
“I pulled down the curtains. When I leaned over the typewriter, sparks burnt round holes in my shirt, and fire singed a sleeve. I dragged the rug away from the sparks. In the kitchen I filled a bucket with water and returned to the erupting typewriter. The typewriter did not seem to be flying apart, only erupting. On my face and hands I felt the heat from the caldera. The yellow fire made a fast, roaring noise. The typewriter itself made rumbling, grinding noise; the table pitched. Nothing seemed to require my bucket of water. The table surface was ruined, of course, but not aflame. After twenty minutes or so, the eruption subsided.”
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Twenty Minutes
The curtains, the typewriter, my shirt,
a sleeve. Sparks erupting, flying. On my
face, heat from the caldera. Yellow fire,
fast, roaring. Nothing subsided.
3 comments:
Oh Marianne, I love this! You made it your own beautifully. The piece leaves a lot of room for interpreation, and that's always fun. The last line is great.
~Brenda
Marianne, I love what you did with that, seemingly impossible paragraph.
Nice.
Pamela
Marianne, this is wonderful. I love the result. One would never have guessed, if one did not know, it is an erasure poem!
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