I find the idea that we write alone laughable, even egotistical. Poetry is a palimpsest that has been endlessly rewritten—it’s a social space we share with others.
Jen Bervin
Sherrie Levine, After Walker Evans, 1981, black and white photograph, 8 × 10 inches. Courtesy of the artist.
The Candy Bar Blooz
they
seezed
hour musheen
frum the
shop
cuz we
wood rok
the candy
loose
get it
free
now we
all got the
candy bar
blooz
Big Bo & Curly
even got in
a fite
never noo
shugar was
such a
powerful
force
cood moov
mowntins
like that
Sum
people drive like
froot nats
all over
the rode
scatturd like
alfabet
soop
little vw
xke & zees
try but fale to out distance
the big trux
the belly dumps
loggers & cranes
the flatbedz
stacked with
sod
all held at bay
by the rig
its snout
arking over
the hood
sucking silt
like
ants
Originally published in
Ralph Humphrey, John Jesurun, art by Amanda Means, David Salle, Julian Schnabel, Eric Fischl, Jackson Pollack, writing by Luc Sante, Kimiko Hahn, Tim Dlugos, and more.
I find the idea that we write alone laughable, even egotistical. Poetry is a palimpsest that has been endlessly rewritten—it’s a social space we share with others.
Jen Bervin