Poetry prompt: Read a book.
This message may contain wolves. And Nicolas Cage.
This week on Identity Theory, we published amazing CNF from Jamie Etheridge called “Wolfing Me.” Also, two poems: “Fat Poem” by Brooke Kolcow and “outside my body is an ecosystem of smiles” by C. heyne. For a cartoon, you got a new kind of tree service from Alan Michael Parker.
Dear Identity Theory Readers,
It’s Friday, and you’re probably tired. It’s Friday, and I have a headache. It’s Friday, and Danielle Rose has more to say about poetry. So, I’m going to let her talk while the Tylenol kicks in and you kick back and listen. (Did that sound like something a radio DJ would say? Be honest.)
Here’s Danielle:
Here’s a poetry prompt for you: Read a book.
I’m serious. Read a book and if something comes to you in response, it comes to you. Write it. I mean, what is a poem, really?
Much has been made of this question over the millennia. And with each passing decade, each passage from one generation to the next, this question has morphed, changed, been rephrased into something different. It has, at times, centered its loci within tribal histories, practical civics, categorizations of virtue, criticisms of the state, devotions to God, the sentimental, the sublime, the universal-cultural, the inner personal, etc. etc. etc.—all again and again coming in and out of fashion, each time a little different, a little more (as we might believe) closer to something that in 2022 we do not dare label as Truth no matter how much we might want to believe that it is Truth.
Poetry is not, nor has it ever truly been, Truth. Pound found this out the hard way, his life’s work evaporating into denser and denser attempts to write the “the history of the tribes.” The confessional poets took note, stepped back and demanded not Truth, but truth with a small ‘t’. Personal truth: The idea that one’s sentiments, attachments, struggles—all the ways we are formed into a ball of emotions that cause the reactions and actions that we call character or daily life or trauma or even joy—are the truths that are available to us today.
I’m not here to tell you what is and is not true. That is far above my pay grade as the poetry editor here at Identity Theory. All I know is that I know it when I see it. That might sound like a cop-out, but I assure you it is not. It is just, if I may beg your forgiveness for using this colloquial phrasing, “the truth.”
So what can I say for National Poetry Month? Read a book. Any book. And then write a truth. Maybe, if you’re really lucky, you’ll string together some words that—for just a moment—make you forget all this stuff: all these actions, emotions, reactions, lives, traumas, joys, and so on so on so on forever. Good luck. We all need it.
I am a child who still believes in fairytales and fiends.
Matt here again. The Tylenol is going…okay. I’m gonna drop another hit for you now, an essay from Jamie Etheridge that hits hard and doesn’t let up: “Wolfing Me.”
I close my eyes and see the gash of a knife, scenes from the slasher flick Daddy watched before turning off the TV, steel blade biting into the chest of a half-naked teenage girl making out with her boyfriend.
I doze off. Then somewhere a shout and I’m wide awake, my chest throbbing where the knife sliced into me.
I am a child who still believes in fairytales and fiends. I am also a girl on the precipice of womanhood, at the beginning of knowing and dissatisfaction and wild animals who smoke in the middle of the night.
I feel consumed by the confusion and fear, by my growing uncertainty. I am the girl in the slasher flick, the lap of the boyfriend’s tongue warm against my neck. Embarrassment and guilt add heat to my already sun-warmed body. That is scary too, the desire and the shame it provokes. Just for a moment I am grateful for the darkness.
Read the rest of “Wolfing Me” by Jamie Etheridge.
A fat poem, with and without typo.
We all got so caught up in the brilliance of Brooke Kolcow’s “Fat Poem” that we missed a typo at the end. There was an “is” where there should’ve been an “it” in the last line. We fixed it. Here’s the poem:
And here’s a poem someone wrote about the typo incident:
I am full of smiles. I write it to be true.
Hot off the press today, we have the poem “outside my body is an ecosystem of smiles” by C. heyne. Here’s a clip:
we go where the animals have gone and continue to go. the warm wet soil welcomes our hoofless appendages. learn we travel, not by instinct, by observation and trust of our star-sought senses. don’t think i’m without my questioning. if we all left early, who would shear the sheep? who would be left to smile back? i am full of smiles. i write it to be true. i am happy and the sheep clack their cloven hooves. i blackout one night and call my mother the next. every sunday. my parents are my church. the sweetest smiling bees.
Read the rest of this beauty.
I will now show you Nicolas Cage and some poems.
I’ve begun receiving books in the mail from strangers and internet friends after mentioning to people on Twitter that if they sent me their poetry books, I’d post photos of the books.
Also, about a year ago, I began receiving unwanted copies of GQ Magazine in the mail for no known reason.
This week, the two worlds converged, and I got poems and GQ at the same time:
This Nicolas-Cage-holding-a-snake photo really ties in with random poetry books, no?
The books included in this photo are Something Kindred by Nicole Tallman and Feeding Hour by Jessica Gigot. (Happy Nicole Tallman Day to those who celebrate.)
But it seemed wrong to keep Nicolas Cage out of the rest of the pictures, because Nicolas Cage loves being in pictures. So here’s one of him photobombing a collection of Jack Bedell books:
Nicolas Cage is FEARLESS.
At least when it comes to poetry.
I will now show you the corgi and some poems.
Iroh the corgi is a big fan of poetry. He likes the way it tastes. Here he is devouring Danielle Rose’s book at first & then:
Iroh’s birthday is Sunday. He is turning four. He would like to celebrate his big day by eating more poetry books and fetching a Nicolas Cage movie.
Don’t put this one in a cage.
This week’s cartoon from Alan Michael Parker:
I once ate at a diner with Nicolas Cage.
It’s both a long story and not a story at all: I once ate at a 24-hour diner in Vegas with Nicolas Cage in the middle of the night. This was maybe five years ago. I didn’t know he was there. So I shouldn’t say “eating with” like we were intentionally consuming greasy omelets together and pondering the universe. It’s just that I was eating at the counter at like 3am, alone. I was pretty sure I was the only person there. I later found out he was there, the only other person there besides the staff. It’s complicated how I found out he was there. The story of how I found out he was there involves an incident many months later. It includes a run-in with Jose Canseco, a longtime local poker dealer, and strange businessmen from California. Should I tell it? I don’t know. I guess if pressed I could think of a way to explain the whole thing. Maybe in the next newsletter. Or maybe if you ask.
Color all maps new.
We’ll be announcing new editors over the next week or two. You’re going to love them.
I still don’t know how to do Instagram, but now that we’re approaching 400 followers, I’m going to try to figure that out.
We’d love you to support our site. This thing is growing exponentially, and we have so much crazy-good stuff coming out the next few months and beyond that it makes my head explode just thinking about it (hence the Tylenol).
Speaking of which, submissions, as always, are open.
Thank you for reading—and for coloring our world.
Rounding third and heading for home,*
Matt Borondy
EIC
Identity Theory
Etc.: We’re Nearing 10.5k Followers on Twitter | We’re on Facebook but We Still Have the Same Number of Followers We Had Five Years Ago and No One Cares
*A baseball reference for Opening Day. I grew up listening to Reds games on radio, and this phrase was part of announcer Joe Nuxhall’s signoff.
You simply must incorporate Nic and his mutant reptile as a frequent feature in the IT galaxy. You simply must.