What Sparks Poetry is a series of original essays that explores experiences and ideas that spark the writing of new poems. In Language as Form, poets write about poetic language as patterned language—how words as sound, voice, sentence, and song become elements of form. Each Monday's delivery brings you the poem and an excerpt from the essay.
November 14
Only hour only thought: speech speech
Tell it juice heft and slant
Warily amuse once again
Some futuricity to say
Other word other anger other other
Between them, a footprint the size of Manhattan
Underscore the elements maybe
A furry designer into deer
Wake into a glancing dream, do I?
Frontier main into malleable
Walk on a planet that melts, moves
Thought to assemble a few continents
How to, the lanes toward disaster
Hard to find a place to step
Speak speak, breasts, what the mouth doesn’t know
Five tracks toward a stigmatism
Otherwise a crossing over now’s
To the skin hard cross
What were so so so
Quickly into chaos, millions go
The thing I meant to tell you
I am in a constant state of forgetting
How to drum up the collective energy
Can you start hoarsely
Forgiving the moment into second
Deranged colors of rage and other elements
What you sacrifice to tell
A toss-up suddenly revealed
It was a wish understanding
A nerve, hit, truth a what’s it
Angle into artery, a coursing wish list
Can you derange or angle
In a positive how many negatives again?
Sails warping into butterfly
A cost made up of soul
If they could agree, the sky
Telling again & again
You, a wish for cathedral, touch
from the book LINES / Winter Editions
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What Sparks Poetry:
Sarah Riggs on Language as Form 


"I determined each poem would be 47 lines, and the lines do not need to be connected to ones before or after, though they could be.  There would be 47 poems. The name of each poem is the date it was written.  To be in time, in the calendar, to have a project that is a book that is a series.  To feel in the momentum of it. To slant into dream, to invite that we survive through the tilt and whir of connecting synapses."
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Black, blue and pink illustration of a human head and the globe representing translation
Heather Green on Translation

"The words in a poem carry what Ralph Waldo Emerson called their 'fossil poetry,' or etymologies, some of which, when translating from French to English, as I do, are shared—like the underground springs they both draw on....And if each word has the vertical depth of its etymology and time-stamped usage, it has a horizontal breadth, too, in each author’s own lexicon, influenced by regional conventions, linguistic origins, and associations—both literary and quotidian—with each word, as well as the author’s favorite usages."

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