NaPoWriMo Poem 23 Cut Up

(Cut Up of Gulliver’s Travels by Jonathan Swift chapter 1 book 1.)


Those who escaped the rock

The 5th of November, from the beginning,

Were all lost. For my part,

I swam.


On the no bottom,

When I was almost gone,

Summer in those parts,

The weather being my depth,

The storm cable’s length the ship.

The wind so strong.


What became of my companions

To the north-west of Van Diemen’s Land?

By what’s left in the vessel,

I cannot tell.


And in about half an hour,

The condition, of which I did

Not observe them, was extreme.

Many dead by immoderate labour

And ill as well.


I found myself within

One having let down the boat

Into the sea. We rowed much abated,

But the declivity was so small.


Twelve of our crew were directed me,

And were pushed forward

By food; the rest

Were weak of condition.


Six crew, of whom I was,

One evening, advanced

Forward near half shift

To get clear ship and rock.


We inhabitants leagues

Till able to work no longer.

Being tired with that,

And heat of the ship,

Trusted to the mercy observation.


We found ourselves in latitude boat,

Overset by sudden northern flurry.

Already spent with labour,

In a mile could not discover

Sign of houses or waves.


Fortune hazy, the seamen spied rock

Half wind and tide.

I let my legs drop,

And could feel driven upon it

Able to struggle no longer.


By my computation, my conjecture,

It was eight o’clock.

I walked a mile before

I got the shore, immediate, split.

NaPoWriMo Poem 22 Cut Up

(This poem is a Cut Up of the first page of my original short fiction “A Fishes Tale.” The short fiction can be read here: )


Over the keychain of his trusty bottle opener

In the blowing in off the lapping waves

Of lake water in his mid-twenties,

He was drinking a Rusty Nail

Since he had grown up and got a job

(And Drambuie on the rocks

Was the height of sophistication).


Drinking a beer

In the shower,

At least once,

A two piece Miller Light bikini

Walked into the bar.


Scalding heat of the shower

Was a mini vacation,

But she was half naked.

She stopped at his table

And new kids, new job,

And the new mortgage,

That of the guys before

Moving to the next table.


The vacation away from responsibilities.

But he, barely of the bottle opener,

But when he heard

The hiss of debauchery that

Everyone thought was adult life.


Smell the slight hint of perspiration

Over her cold lake side of wild,

Southern California, while

He forgot about the cold

And the light spray of the mist.


More remembering:

He was fully reliving.

His, Rob’s keys jingled as the fumbled:

His fingers and a family of his own.

Rob had made a point

Of predawn chill.


He was given the bottle opener month.

The ice cold beer contrasted

Against the near at the Irish Pub

(He thought that Scotch and on),

In the midst of settling

Into a new life, new wife.


While waiting his turn for karaoke.

A girl, in a precluded the ability…

To take a real extended…

She wasn’t the hottest girl he had seen there.

Barely remembered his college days.

And they talked a little and handed out

Keychains to each life.


But this cold beer

In the cold morning

Out in the Miller Light,

Lettering has long since worn off

While he fished for his own dinner.

This was it.


No, that morning’s first beer.

Popping open, he could glory days.

Cheap floral body spray.

And for a second he forgot.

NaPoWriMo Poem 21 Cut Up

(Cut Up of Gulliver’s Travels by Jonathan Swift chapter 1 book 1.)


The original manuscript,

An account of inducements shipwrecked,

With sea-language apt, like the land,

New-fangled, altered, degenerated:

Vice and folly, Keys and reflections

Degrading the female sex.


Wife, my fortune, ancient and being:

Infernal lying souls of all species.

Daughter dying, swim safe on shore

Carried up at fourteen years.

Books banished the female virtue,

Weeded and swept their own ink.


Knowing my good master resolved in London,

Always provided strength. A narrow fortune

Bound sums of money laid out to travel.

Three years of the Antelope,

Three years applied scanty allowance.

Voyages of the sea at home, wife and family.

As always, fortune got forty Pounds and a promise:

Making adventures by violent storm.

NaPoWriMo Poem 16 Erasure

(Erasure of lines 42-83 of Paradise Lost: Book 1 By John Milton.)


God rais’d impious War in Heav’n.

The Almighty Power defie Day and Night.


Mortal men confounded immortal doom,

Lost happiness, lasting pain, torments,

Baleful eyes, huge affliction, and dismay.

As the Situation flam’d, those flames,

Darkness visible, discover hope.


But torture urges Eternal Justice prepar’d,

For those rebellious portion set God thrice to th’ Pole,

There with Floods and Whirlwinds.


He by his side: One next himself,

Known Palestine and nam’d.

Heav’n, with bold words began.

NaPoWriMo Poem 15 Erasure

(Erasure of lines 21-41 of Paradise Lost: Book 1 By John Milton.)


Dove-like Abyss: pregnant, dark.

Raise and support this great Argument.


Providence justifie God to men.

For Heav’n view of Hell.


Say first our favour’d fall from will,

For restraint seduc’d them.

Th’ Serpent cast him out.


Rebel Glory peers most

With ambitious aim.

NaPoWriMo Poem 14 Fold In

(Lines 490-495 of John Gower’s The Lover’s Confession folded in with the introduction to John Gower from the Norton Anthology of English Literature Vol. 1 P 348.)


Same story in the remembrance

Raising episodes of hat vengeance

Ovid’s narrative fairly hadden him ordained,

Suffering women into sustres hadden plained:

Butchers her own child. He was chaunged.

Feels the inescapable owene kinde chaunged.