All Done!

Well, my submission is submitted. Thanks to those who wrote back and helped me organize and mail it. (Dorcinda, Adeeba, Poonam, Danial, Jose). It ended up at 70 pages including three section title pages. All in all, not bad for a month and a half of work. I produced many, many, bad poems, but a few good ones, certainly more than I would've had I not been writing constantly. As I was reading about Malcolm Gladwell's 10,000-hour expert rule, I came across a blog that used pottery as an example of quantity producing quality. A class of students was divided into two groups, one told they would be graded solely on the quality of their best pot and another told they would be graded solely on the number of pots produced. The Quantity group not only produced significantly more pots, but also the best pots of the bunch.

I still think my submission is weak for three reasons: 1) It's a Latino poetry prize, and my name is Dietrich freaking Knauth. I've considered changing the last name for professional reasons or adopting a pseudonym, but I've yet to do so, so even if I've got the best submission (which I doubt), the Institute of Latino Studies at Notre Dame will be in the awkward position of publishing German von Deutschstein as their featured Latino poet. 2) There a huge drop-off between the few really good poems and the many merely passable poems. 3) The collection is rather scattershot, as I was trying as many things as I could to keep writing and "find my voice." I think a more cohesive unit with a stronger overall tone would stand a better chance of winning.

But hey, it's done. I wrote a book. Next up, short stories, I guess.

To finish off, I'll include a couple of poems that I wrote between my last post and now.

River

River, I will wade
River, I will wallow
But I swear I’ll never cross you, River.

River, give me your hand
River, lead me to your bed,
I let your ripples rule me, River

River, take me in
River, lift me up
I am never more at home than when I am within you, River

River, how you babble
River, how you roar
But I cannot understand you, River

River, you are tranquil
River, you’ve gone mad
I cannot keep up with you River.

River, cease your crying
River, dry your eyes
Sometimes you can be a real wet blanket, River

River, in the winter,
You are cold when I need warmth
You freeze me without warning, River


River, you gave me life
River, you quenched my thirst
But all I can do it damn you, River.

River you lick my wounds
River, you tear my clothes
You are as gentle as a tsunami, River

River in the heat
River, in dry summers
Are you wet only for me, River?

River, wash my body
River, wash my soul,
I curse the day they named you, River


The Scarecrow and the Sylbarine

The scarecrow and the sylbarine
Went out to tea today
And all the places in between
Were stops along the way

The shadow of a mighty oak
The space beneath the quay
The pause between the words they spoke
- they stopped but didn’t stay

The scarecrow brought his syllabary
The sylbarine a key
And so the ragged pair could then
Uncork each word they’d see

The tea was warm, the day was hot
And so they let it steam
They stripped off all the clothes they’d brought
And dipped into a stream

A scarecrow, now, you surely know
Is just a sack of sticks and straw
And stripped of clothes, the water’s flow
Dissolved him in its maw

A sylbarine, you may recall,
Is not like you or I at all
With gems for eyes and crystal wings
It laughs and glides where waters fall

The sylbarine plucked from the stream
The scarecrow’s wooden bones
While tiny hands collected straw
It sang in crystal tones

The sylbarine, meticulous
Rebuilt the sodden scarecrow there
And though he looked ridiculous
The scarecrow didn’t care

Arm in arm, the sticks and straw
The gossamer and gleam
They walked and laughed their way back home
Scarecrow and sylbarine