Found Email Poems

Tonight at the Florence Poets Society, two poets read found poems -- one created from spam that made its way to her email address, the other from CosmoGirl magazine. It reminded me of two poems I wrote several years ago, chronicling a short-lived but poetically-inspiring love affair. Each is written following a different found formula. The first one, getting a little addicted to these emails, is comprised solely of phrases from a month's email correspondence, arranged to make sense, not using all the email.

The second, November, 2003, uses phrases from every email in that month's correspondence and are used in the chronological order in which they were sent and are in black font. Additional words and phrases are added (here in a different color) to make the poem coherent.

So here they are

getting a little addicted to these emails

all of a sudden I'm not

sure what the ground is

I'm walking on

drawn there, called there,

seen there, noticed, even held

pause on the precipice

what passes between us

might bring you to feel

elated and jittery

more than excited (phosphorous)

curiously shocking

i'm a little nervous

(ok really nervous)

melancholy bordering on occasional desperation

i went in shuffling and hunched over –

i came out renewed:

those woods held me

through staccato feelings and

thoughts bouncing in every direction

there are a number of reasons why

next week will be a little different;

amazed and not sure what it means

is it possible to reconnect with all the good?

yes yes yes

~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~

November, 2003

I wanted you to read this but you replied

“I am out of the office.”

This is the metaphor, isn’t it?

Gone you are, not the first time, not the last.

But then you return and say:

“we also talk, and i hope to talk with you”

I send you a sweet tease, wonder

if you're not up to a flirt

but then

you signed "love"

and

(i honor the light within you)

and then confirm that

(yes, i did use that word the other day, didn't i.)

I wanted to give you the out

even wrote it over and over to you

but then we had time together, alone, at night:

thinking back…with all its starts and stops,

anxieties and constraints,

its intent and loving gazes.

our touching is a potent combination

of tease and promise

but there must be

space, time, and emotional readiness

there for all of it.

And that is not there now.

And so you leave.

We are involved

and I don't know how to do it differently.

I think we can

set boundaries,

we can decide not to be sexual,

we can stop seeing

each other for weeks or months,

and we would still be involved.

Each exchange with you sinks me deeper, endears you to me.

I am not a goner,

but I would be

so disappointed,

so sad,

if we were to stop now.

We did stop now and I am sad.

It would be fine,

It will be fine

when we need to slow or stop altogether

We did stop now and it is fine,

At least in the daytime.

It is night that brings on the tears

And sometimes in the day.

a small parting gesture

you are beautiful. (say that last word slowly.)

you told me

after you left one of those precious nights,

“i did a little dance,

held your glass and just had a good time for a few minutes”

savor the sweetness that was

and jokingly wonder

do you ever put

stuff in these emails thinking ahead

to the next monthly summary poem?

“me neither,” you quip.

just in case we can't figure out a way

to make this work

I want to say

wouldn't it be nice

and then I must stop myself

because it doesn’t help.

I have re-read over and over…your…emails and

I am filled with such joy,

such light, such delight,

I just want to shout and share.

I want to hope

And then there are times when

i'm angry, put-out, resentful

and probably scared underlying it all

I think that we have both, separately and somehow together,

slipped beneath the still surface of the well of grief

I am with you.

all the feelings are swirling and swelling

your tears are precious and

your tears are precious to me.

There is so much I will miss:

i want to be outside in a snow-drenched wood

with you, warm enough to stay for a long time, to hear you tell

stories, to watch your face and your beautiful, expressive hands as

you do, i want to watch you unawares, communing with the snow, i want

to find your enthusiasm contagious, i want to ride on your exuberance.

There is so much you will miss:

earrings dangling and

so much more I can’t begin the list.

would you be willing for more?

You know my answer.

I think into the future, envision us,

A bit disembodied, third person:

they laughed;

Thought;

realizing that this is a big wonderful first

remembering the first rush,

the feeling of

how large is this universe we have entered

that even without our first kiss

i can be so consumed by thoughts of you

and know there is still more?

There are moments when I know

You will find me

Knowing you said that

I forgot my hat but

You will not forget me.

It's all in you, it's all there –

either whole already, or the ability to

get what you need to be whole

And there are other moments when

I can't figure out,

am distraught,

and once again my computer tells me

that you are telling me

“I am out of the office”

And our last email sits in a

a field of bleak