Step 1. Do a word-cento of Bruce Wise’s latest Wise Words with Bruce Wise at Oddball Magazine. (In non-shpiggidity-shpaggidity speak, a word-cento is basically is a rearrangement of the words of a poem however you see fit, but only using the poet’s words, particularly the words in only one poem of said saint. *)
WORD-CENTO
Internet games, wired kerplunk, parked dragonfly heron plods dollies, the sound upon air-conditioned work on the busy carpet beneath monitors, complex erratic friendships so bare vacuum mobilized thighs, alive stands Mother disconnected by classical echo Hands starve for pink genocide.
Step 2. Write a meditative insert. (This is kinda tough to explain. Really, it’s whatever gets your grooviness going… but in a meditative way and with a hard-on for poetry.) Try writing while listening to Miles Davis’ In A Silent Way. That always gets me groovy…
MEDITATIVE INSERT
Enlightenment seems like a blessing in disguise, a corpse to a fool, whose ragged bones shiver in the wind; and rage with a hard-on for justice, punctuation: self-acceptance
for all that is. There is nothing hidden ember infant selfishness fierce as fire fraught by nihilist saints, the ocean baby-making waves as I crash
into We.
Step 3. Combine the meditative insert and the word-cento and make some slight edits.
I CRASH INTO WE (combo)
Internet games, wired kerplunk, parked dragonfly heron. Enlightenment seems like a blessing in disguise, plods dollies, the sound corpse to a fool whose ragged bones shiver air-conditioned work and rage on the busy carpet with a hard-on for justice beneath monitors, erratic friendships so bare vacuum mobilized thighs alive for all that is: Mother. There is nothing hidden disconnected by classical ember echo, punctuation: self-acceptance. Hands starve for infant selfishness, fierce as fire fraught by nihilist saints’ pink genocide… the ocean baby-making waves I crash
into We.
* NOTE: In this particular “Incentovise,” I kind of cheat in that I am considering Bruce Wise’s latest column as a singular work. In truth, it’s comprised of more than one poet, even though the column is one author.