So, I’m still not quite sure I know what I’m doing, but here it is. I wrote an autobiographical poem using words only from the titles of the books in my room. Keeping the titles in tact made the piece sound too much like a list, but I hope that in the scrambling of words the integrity of what a lyric essay is remains.
Life in Literature
The birth of Lady Venus in Wonderland.
The master of the spirits, reading.
The aspiring writers everlasting project
To write like Chekhov.
When you go put strengths to work
Like the soul awakening intuition
The spirit of the elixir called love sounds true.
Random obsessions deflowered the paradiso.
Pride and prejudice, ignorance and war.
Your portrait of a daring genius of the enlightenment, engulfed in flames
The frenzy of the kill remains.
What is your Buddha?
The world living life as a thank you.
Lolita, the cosmic navigator, the poetry oracle, making star signs, sun signs matter.
The path to love: the art of laughter and forgetting.
The dialogues of fathers and queer sons are the feasts of freedom.
One hundred years of philosophy on the edge of evolution. Unbearable.
The day you want adventure. Journal.
Memory: the clockwork muse.
Looking at the time writers connected the secret law to how
It’s never too late to be what you might have been.
Writing of the being, the secret to live by.
This side of paradise beats of brave new literature.
The theme is my personal journey as a beginning writer, the state of the world, and my personal state. I was really surprised that I could convey what I mean using this limited set of words.
I had some fun writing it, I hope you enjoy reading it.