The Spontaneous Prose Store

When I was walking along Brick Lane the other day I stumbled across the lady above, set up in the street, tapping away on her typewriter. She was like some bohemian mirage I dreamt up when I was seven. Most nights I was forced to go to bed at eight even though in the summer it was still bright outside so I’d prop my notebook up on the window sill and write mad stories until the last of the light was stubbed out.

Obviously I wasn’t going to walk past such an interesting character so I stopped and chatted to her a bit. She had labelled herself The Spontaneous Prose Store and for a small donation would write a prose sample on demand. All I had to do was choose the topic: robots were the first thing that came to mind. The small slip of paper in the photograph below has, overnight, become one of my most treasured possessions. Not only do I share her nervousness over sentient technology (I saw Terminator very young) but every time I look at it I’m reminded of the fact that if you really want to do something all you have to do is step out and do it.

Sally’s legs are long                           firm clenched cobras
coiling your boyish                           body. Hissing her lies
at you: “You are using                      her.”  “You are a man.”
She is temptation                               constricting, corrupting
you are her prey                                of pure blood, drinking
gladly of her                                        venom.  Her loose
limbs devour you.                              Her tight thighs offer
solace – for tonight.                            But at dawn they will shed
the limp skin of                                   you. Slithering
into the warm bed                             of her next virgin.

Notes

This poem is an experiment with graphology. This basically means altering the appearance of a poem in some way to modify/emphasise meaning. I kind of like the interuption of flow on key words, using this technique allows important concepts to hang until the next line, forcing the reader to think about a particular idea for just a few seconds longer. If I was really clever I would be able to craft the stanzas as stand alone poems so they made sense if you read them down as well as across but unfortunately my skill doesn’t stretch that far. At least not with this subject. A worthy target for future compositions though.

You skim flat pebbles, disturbing

thoughts once stowed beneath smooth waters.

Under a slippery rock,

a Minnow loiters

like the grudging, silver

silence still left over from last night.

Ducks squabble over nothing

in the static air of dusk

a smudged sun of orange chalk sinks;

the blurry doodle of a dreamy child

submerged in the lake, disolving

all that remains

of Tuesday.

Notes

Similar to the previously published poem Fishing this poem uses enjambment, many of the lines bleed into the next and offer multiple interpretations. It’s a shorter poem so every word carries more weight and meaning. Again the ideas in this poem are based on issues within a difficult relationship; unfortunately it tends to be the negative end of the emotional spectrum that most frequently inspires me to write – bet you guys can’t wait to read my novel now! Still, for the next poem I promise to change tack slightly. To promise something upbeat, however, would probably be promising too much.