Erasure

I did a little experimenting today with something called an erasure poem. It’s basically what it sounds like—a poem created by erasing words from an existing text. I didn’t do them the way one is “supposed” to because I don’t care for a lot of white space in my poetry, (which probably indicates something dubious about my character, but I don't know or care what), and because I naturally tend  to a more narrative style. So I fudged it a little bit and came up with a hybrid method. Comments welcome!

Note: These poems are purely experimental and only lightly edited.

The Lion House

The day goes, dusk

saluted by neon light.

In the opinion of those who lay

back in long arm chairs,  badly dressed, plump

hands curled round their cups, evenings

are difficult to kill, each hour

a beast with a lump of raw meat in its jaws:

Swine, parrot, canary, dog.

Eyes fixed upon a thicket of sleep,

half-bodies of decaying sound, what you

hear if you stand in the lion house

when the bones are being mauled.

Little theories, ingeniously arranged

rouse the bedraggled clock. The lion

shakes his kill in day-worn jaws. 
The hours wheeze in a caustic dim.

The Spirit of the Home

It is an easy thing to make a beautiful

home because the world

is beautiful and manufactures everything, art and truth

made on principle. It is curious that false things,

those without honesty, without

the spirit of the home, have no place

in the scheme of beauty. The beautiful aspects

must be created by the family owner

through susceptibility and appreciation. The great

majority of homes have lines that underlie

their character. Somewhat akin to performance, the

artist must use the best methods.

The most potent beauty is apt.

A Ponderous Bridle

God doesn't want to see me

Chastened, tottering along

slow and tired with a ponderous bridle

in a valley with hundreds of years

of settling small affairs.

I will be a frying-size girl, scramble

the nest and grow where my crow

will be heard by the world.

--Kristen McHenry