the world a letter

Thanks to Charles Jensen for giving us (read: me) things to write about when our (read: my) own thoughts are to overgrown for harvesting, and an excuse for a bout of embarassing narcissism:

In fifth grade I kept a little journal with pithy aphoristic sentences I thought were very important. But those weren’t really poems. I guess my first poem was in 7th grade, it was in imitation of Auden’s “Law Like Love,” called “I Am All”. It used variations in meter for dramatic effect, parallel construction, made a statement of pantheistic absolute selfedness, and was completely derivative. I was very proud of it. My teacher didn’t care too much for it either way (she was more taken with those in class who wrote in imitation of Police lyrics, as I remember it), and I was so piqued by her inattention I didn’t write another poem until 11th grade, when, for my project on the surrealists, I smartassedly handed in a dictionary for my project and called it an anthology of ‘every poem ever written,’ and got an A. Which I found surreal, to be honest. Go figure.

Do I still have “I Am All” somewhere? Yes, somewhat memorized (this may get deleted in short order if I can’t take the pressure of exposure to your eyes):

“Some people say the sun is a god
or the mountains, or moon, or stars;
some people say . . .
. . .
. . .
some people say one god rules in heaven,
and is king of all others, gods and fools;
but I say that these gods,
these mountains, or moons, or stars,
these slithering serpents and uncaring kings,
all exist in myself, for I am all.”


You know, looking at it written out, I see that it would’ve been less embarassing had I just written in response to the “Things you don’t know about me” question instead. What can I say? I was a very serious seventh grader. Except for when I was laughing, which was, mercifully, often.

Enjoy.