Perverse: "A Litany of Seas"

A perverse is created by combining half of one line of poetry with half of another.

The following example was created by taking six pairs of lines from canonical poems, splitting each pair in half, and joining the first half of the first line with the second half of the second (and vice versa). As indicated by the poem's title, the end word of each line is "sea." Citations can be found below.

“A Litany of Seas”

We have lingered in the tragic-gestured sea,
The ever-hooded chambers of the sea,
By man and beast and by the winter sea.

Among the mountains, earth and air and sea,
She sang beyond the rising of the sea.

Have sight of Proteus, genius of the sea,
By night, with noises, if the freshening sea
Were a delight; and of the northern sea,
And bowery hollows of our western seas,
That have the frenzy crowned with summer sea.

Feast them upon the kisses of the sea,
Under the quick faint wideness of the sea.

*

Lines 1 and 2: T.S. Eliot, “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock”
Wallace Stevens, “The Idea of Order at Key West”

Lines 3 and 4: Percy Bysshe Shelley, “Adonais”
Alfred, Lord Tennyson, “Morte d’Arthur”

Lines 5 and 6: Wallace Stevens, “The Idea of Order at Key West”
William Wordsworth, “The World Is Too Much With Us”

Lines 7 and 8: Alfred, Lord Tennyson, “Morte d’Arthur”
Lord Byron, “Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, A Romaunt”

Lines 9 and 10: Alfred, Lord Tennyson, “Morte d’Arthur”
William Butler Yeats, “Michael Robertes”

Lines 11 and 12: John Keats, “On the Sea”
Percy Bysshe Shelley, “Epipsychidion”

Beautiful Inlaw

Not to be confused with the "Beautiful Outlaw," the "Beautiful Inlaw" is a restriction under which a writer may only compose using the letters already found in a given source text–i.e., a person’s name. The fewer letters in the source text, the more maddening the compositional process.

The poem below was written using only letters from the name of the musician Polly Jean Harvey.

"Her Harp"

Hey raven hen,
Love-leery pen,
Pallor on nape,
Roar, never rape,

Eve, revere hell,
Heaven: non-real,
Prayer: holy ploy,
Jeer every ‘he,’

Prove venal nerve,
Prey on a perv,
Preen on a nave,
Have Johnny pay,

Yelp on a prop,
Yearn on a lap,
Pearl-heavy hole,
Reap lovely joy.

Larding: "Creekside Elegy"

Further larding below; this passage was inspired by the lyrics to the song "Railroad Murder Blues," by little-known indie rockers the Jailors U.K.

Creekside Elegy

The moonlight glazed the dirt road like a cake. He knelt by the water's edge, his face buried in her torn robe.

The moonlight glazed the dirt road like a cake. It was the same dirt road that his truck tires had rumbled over that morning as he drove to collect on her debt. Midnight hung in the sharp autumn air, a silent verdict echoing across the countryside. He could still hear the cadences of her voice at sunup, pleading as he grabbed her shoulders and shook her frail body. A blot of smoke rose from the ruined trailer nestled in the stand of pines at the road's end, the negative image of dawn's promise and tranquility. At the start of the day she had stood in the door, clad in a threadbare pink robe, sipping the dregs from her coffee cup. A lump had risen in her throat as she heard his wheels coming up her driveway. It had only taken one match, and now there was nothing left but ash. He had obtained his revenge, extracted the price she had to pay for her unfaithfulness. Nothing left but the vanishingly fine grains of an incinerated dream. First her livelihood, then her life. A trail of sooty footprints led from the trailer's lot to the creek that ran beside the road. She had struggled until the end, her cries of anguish proportionate to the joy and generosity she had shown the world. The prints were the void he left in his wake, the bottomless aftermath of the evening's hateful passion. Now all that was left of their former happiness was a scrap of pink cloth. He knelt by the water's edge, his face buried in her torn robe.

Slenderizing

Slenderizing is a simple enough method; it consists merely of removing all instances of a given letter from a source text. The catch is that the resulting text must make sense, i.e., all the remaining words must be actual words. (Dearth becomes death, or dire becomes die, to give two macabre examples.) What results is, of course, a lipogram, albeit one that is especially frustrating to compose.

The poem below and its slenderized progeny are both originals.

The Breach

I grazed on a prawn as the ocean roiled
Through nights as sinuous as cinema reels,
Saw youths doing ninety, then braking, coiled,
Each breast streaming sweat behind each wheel.

In the breach, feet always trapped on the gas,
Death was the wager that caused them to stray.
The strand’s portent wind was howling for crash,
But the drivers disdained the warning of the day.

I sipped Sprite and gin, as the teenage vixens
All watched with a heart that crackled in sin;
Seeing these beaus in tempestuous frictions
Built up to a craving to shred the day’s skin.

The maddening drip of time’s unending tricks
Dissolved as they laughed at the farce of the gods,
While I creased my brow, feeling branded and sick
By my ceaseless compulsion to pray to the clock.

*

The Beach

I gazed on a pawn as the ocean oiled,
Though nights as sinuous as cinema eels
Saw youths doing ninety, then baking, coiled,
Each beast steaming sweat behind each wheel.

In the beach, feet always tapped on the gas;
Death was the wage that caused them to stay.
The stand’s potent wind was howling for cash,
But the dives disdained the waning of the day.

I sipped spite and gin, as the teenage vixens
All watched with a heat that cackled in sin;
Seeing these beaus in tempestuous fictions
Built up to a caving to shed the day’s skin.

The maddening dip of time’s unending ticks
Dissolved as they laughed at the face of the gods,
While I ceased my bow, feeling banded and sick
By my ceaseless compulsion to pay to the clock.

Larding: "These Squirrels Were Equipped..."

The sentences I began with were from the claims of an Iranian blogger, "These squirrels were equipped by foreign intelligence services, but were captured two weeks ago by the Police" [and the subsequent quote by the IRNA] "I have heard about it, but I do not have precise information." I feel quite confident you can find the "article" should you feel compelled to look for it.

"These Squirrels Were Equipped..."

"These squirrels were equipped by foreign intelligence services, but were captured two weeks ago by the Police". Mr. Pebbles folded his newspaper in quarters, set it down on his breakfast nook table, adjusted his tortoise shell glasses, and sighed into his hand. Outside, the sun was in full riot among the tulips - a fair coup for July in Kentshire. 14? Then there was always the chance that Rocky was still alive. If any of them had survived it would be Rocky...tough little bastard, thought Pebbles sipping his tea. Mr. Maize in America would be calling soon, as would Home Office - so much to do. As he placed his newspaper in the sink and lit it with a pipe match, Pebbles remembered the first time he had met Rocky. It was Hyde Park in Autumn, and suddenly there he was, a Scurius vulgaria, 40 cm long from nose to tail, and red as an Irish terrorist - he appeared to be attempting to eat a smoldering cigarette. You don't want that, little fellow, he'd thought, moments before his precocious soon-to-be student blew a tiny smoke ring. Breezing through his espionage and subversion classes faster than many human students, Rocky had been a Scurius Savant, the obvious choice to lead the mission. And now, perhaps...the phone rang, Pebbles turned on the faucet, dousing the last flames of the newspaper.
"Pebbles."
"Yes, Gerald, I'm glad you're home. I assume you've heard the disquieting news."
"Yes, Gerald, I've only just read about it in the tabloids. No chance the Iranians are bluffing, I suppose."
"Doubtful, I'm afraid."
"Yes, I was afraid of that."
"You were close to one of them weren't you, number 67?"
"Yes, Rocky, my prize student."
"Well, about that, you see, several of our people around London have turned up dead. All of them connected to the Animal Recognizance division in one way or another..."
"What are you trying to say Gerald?"
"Well, Gerald, frankly you worked with this...animal. What are the chances he could have been turned? I only ask because...from our mapping of these murders, it all points toward your direction. In all your years of this work, have you ever heard of such a thing?"
Gerald Pebbles turned around into the sunlight, which now cascaded through the window and across the little smoke rings coming from the far side of the table. Stately, toothy, number 67 stood upright and flicked his cigarette into the sink - his incisors bright as angel's eyes.
"I have heard about it, but I do not have precise information."

Diamond Snowball

The Snowball is a poetic form in which each line consists of one word, with the first word containing one letter, the second word two letters, and so on. The variation of this form represented below is called a Diamond Snowball, in which, following the middle line of the poem, each subsequent one-word line decreases by one letter, such that the final line of the poem is only one letter long. (Somehow, Diamond Snowball sounds like an innovative new strain of cocaine.) If letters don't strike an author's fancy, Snowballs can also be written with a gradual increase of syllables, words, or any other morphological or semantic unit.

Imperial Passage

I
go
out
into
grimy,
random
streets,
imperial,
beholding
confounded
daytrippers’
functionless
perambulating–
unapproachable,
uncompassionate.
Metastatically,
schadenfreude
exterminates
sympathetic
appraisals
regarding
humanity,
cruelly
paring
until,
from
the
"we,"
"I."

Chimera continued

Below please find another Chimera (see the post from June 25 for a definition of the form). The source text is the paragraph in Ronald Reagan's farewell address in which he describes what he sees when he contemplates John Winthrop's phrase "a shining city upon a hill," a phrase that Reagan often quoted to describe America. The nouns from the paragraph have been replaced by the nouns from Sonic Youth's song "Tom Violence"; the adjectives, by the adjectives from SY's "Tuff Gnarl." The treatment does appropriate violence to the source; "shining city upon a hill" has now become "hard tit crush upon a sin." Which phrase better describes the United States at present?

And that's about all I have to say tonight, except for tuff violence. The fatal smart dreams when I've been at that fast arm, I've thought a bit of the 'hard tit crush upon a sin.' The head comes from John Winthrop, who wrote it to describe the America he imagined. What he imagined was killer because he was a hot Pilgrim, a hot young bliss. He journeyed here on what today we'd call a saving sonic home; and like the pig Pilgrims, he was looking for an experience that would be amazing. I've spoken of the hard tit crush all my strange honesty, but I don't know if I ever quite communicated what I saw when I said it. But in my chest it was a raging, spastic crush built on numbers more adrenal than prayers, mental, man-tool, and cranking with fathers of flesh girls living in things and memories; a crush with amazing lives that hummed with feelings and secrets. And if there had to be dirt flesh, the flesh had tongues and the tongues were lost to anyone with the night and the dreams to get here. That's how I saw it, and see it still.

The original:

And that's about all I have to say tonight, except for one thing. The past few days when I've been at that window upstairs, I've thought a bit of the 'shining city upon a hill.' The phrase comes from John Winthrop, who wrote it to describe the America he imagined. What he imagined was important because he was an early Pilgrim, an early freedom man. He journeyed here on what today we'd call a little wooden boat; and like the other Pilgrims, he was looking for a home that would be free. I've spoken of the shining city all my political life, but I don't know if I ever quite communicated what I saw when I said it. But in my mind it was a tall, proud city built on rocks stronger than oceans, windswept, God-blessed, and teeming with people of all kinds living in harmony and peace; a city with free ports that hummed with commerce and creativity. And if there had to be city walls, the walls had doors and the doors were open to anyone with the will and the heart to get here. That's how I saw it, and see it still.