Sherry Chandler

Cut and Paste

Last Tuesday I attended the last session of a 10-week poetry class taught by Leatha Kendrick at the Carnegie Center for Literacy and Learning here in Lexington. It was a great class with a lot of energy not only in the teacher but also in the students. Together we produced a fairly amazing body of work.

For our last class, we were asked to bring in a failed poem. I chose the one below, which I tried to write on the occasion of the last Kentucky Guild of Artists and Craftsmen fair to be held at Indian Fort Theater between Berea and Big Hill.

This is what I took:

GUILD FAIR

to the south, the bullfrog croak
of washtub bass, not quite
in tune, not quite on the beat,
a medley from Oh Brother
the sing-along children all
in constant sorrow.

to the north, the rattle, roar,
squeak and clang of kettle corn,
a soundtrack of chatter, rhythms
of English, punctuated
by slamming Port-O-San doors,
a squeak of stroller wheels.

An old man, tweed jacket and cane,
drags along a straw stuck
to his pointy-toed black shoes,
a toddler waves a trophy broken branch,
a midge crawls frantic circles
in the bowl of a wild-cherry spoon,
pignuts bombard the roof of our E-Z-Up.

I watch a leaf turn on the forest floor:
Daddy Longlegs palpates loam
with prehensile wisps,
touches the rubber edge of my sole,
jumps back.

During the class, Leatha gave us scissors, glue sticks, and paper and told us to excise only those portions of the “poem” that seemed energetic and strong. This is what I wound up with:

What I think I learned: not only was there very little really interesting language in my original (and the big delete circle means that I had some doubt about what I did save) but it looks really static and dull compared to the kind of paste-up whimsy of the edit.

I think I found the optimum form for this little piece and that’s why I put it up here. Maybe it’s because the paste-up has a crafty look that’s appropriate to its subject. I think it has turned into a visual poem of sorts.

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