Thursday, November 13, 2003

Thursday, November 13, 2003

Ok. I didn't give the Gender Genie a text with over 500 words, I gave it the first section of a new long poem:

TYPOGRAPHY

Typography exists to honor content
—Robert Bringhurst


They cannot avoid the unsolicited messages,
the attention drawn with the hand to mimic
a classical form in an elegant present. It makes
visual sense to be lachrymal, to be teary-eyed.
As the counter and the foot work to balance,
the dancer, being modern, falls to the floor
with a thud. When she rises, a letterform.
Many of them together. Spelling out
O-U-R-S-E-L-V-E-S O-U-R D-I-L-E-M-M-A-S.
These are our muddy proofs, this adnate limb.
They while away the day being read and little
else. I want to cast the dancer in lead, place a C
in the room where white space was. If we made
a body hold a shape, would it say it were occupied?

Yeah. I'm writing a sonnet crown. It's called Typography. And it was written by a female. Last I checked, I had a lead pipe and a pair o' dice (this is what I imagine a young ray liotta would say in a sequel to Goodfellas). Though the gender genie does confirm my belief in my "metrosexuality." Does metrosexual count as a gender? It should.

OH!!! I QUIT SMOKING!!! GO FIGURE, I, THE SMOKINGEST OF ALL THE YOUNG POETS WHO SMOKE, QUIT.

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