kingsoftrain

Today is very long, with or without
a map, in its attempt at meaning. I didn’t dress up as a heroine or stop at
Hotel Eden. Nor did I disguise myself as a cyclist, or hail a taxi to the
revolution. Instead I buried myself like an object of adoration. (Befuddlement
sharpens intelligence.) There must be some way, I thought, to hear the canaries
of reality. Then, a reader walked by, and I went with him, simple as that, with
a zoom from the shaded area.

Hoy es un día larguísimo, con o sin mapa, en la intención del sentido. No me vestí de heroína ni visité el Hotel Edén. Tampoco me disfracé de ciclista ni fui a la revolución en taxi. En cambio, me dediqué a enterrarme como a un objeto adorable. (Desconcertada, la inteligencia aumenta.) Alguna forma ha de haber, pensé, de escuchar los canarios de la realidad…

Artist, poet, and freelance writer, J.I. Kleinberg is a Best of the Net and Pushcart nominee. Her found poems have appeared in Diagram, Dusie, Entropy, Otoliths, What Rough Beast, The Tishman Review, and elsewhere. She lives in Bellingham, Washington, where she tears up magazines and posts frequently at thepoetrydepartment.wordpress.com.

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green grass

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change is strength

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to get quiet

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we are the home

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perhaps

~~~

These visual poems are from an ongoing series of collages (1900+) built from phrases created unintentionally through the accident of magazine page design. Each contiguous fragment of text (roughly the equivalent of a poetic line) is entirely removed from its original sense and syntax. The text is not altered (except for the occasional deletion of prefixes, suffixes, or punctuation) and includes no attributable phrases. The lines of each collage are, in most cases, sourced from different magazines.