A Few Ways to Read a Book of Poems

May 28, 2008

Poem by poem in the order given

Ordered by the name of the journal in which the poems first appeared… and then the rest

In alphabetical order, by title

Poems that begin on even numbered pages first

Grouped by title and presumed theme: animal, mineral, vegetable; fire, water, earth, air; people, place, thing, event

Randomly, marking your progress carefully with small dots

From shortest poem to longest

From shortest title to longest

Skipping all but the well known poems so you can hold your own in coffee shop conversation

Slowly, savoring the weight of every word in your mouth and their taste on your tongue

Completely ignoring the line breaks

In order the poems would appear if you took the first letter of each interesting word in each poem and used them to spell a favorite word

Chronologically by date of composition, publication, or the author’s presumed satisfaction

Prose poems then formal poems then free verse… then any that are written as one but should have been another

Poem by poem, one each night, out loud, a prayer

Poem by poem each morning, an absolution

In a stolen hour when you should be working

In one sitting regardless of size like any bowl of ice cream

Tearing each page out as you finish it and optionally playing trash can basketball

With your tongue, licking line by line

In a whisper into the ear of someone you love, or hope to love, or once did

Through a PA system, shaking the walls and vibrating the windows behind which an aging dictator sits with his hands over his ears, his lucky string of the dried ears of enemies forgotten

While simultaneously performing a translation into another tongue, real or imagined

Skimming, hoping to catch someone’s attention… anyone

On public transportation, tucked inside a People magazine, the National Inquirer, or the Wall Street Journal

As if your life depended on it

As if it were your last

While studiously ignoring the thermometer edging towards 457 degrees Fahrenheit

Closely, very closely, watching for anagrams, ciphers, or microdots

In disbelief

While pretending the author is dead

Enviously, with a clenched fist

Greedily, mouthing the words

Haphazardly, but without malice

With a pencil, a highlighter, or a vintage fountain pen filled with azure blue ink

With a thick chisel-tipped marker labelled ‘The Redactor’

In the illumination of a flashlight under the covers, a lantern in a tent, or the last slanted sunlight streaming through the barred window

(and each way in reverse)

Tags: AtRandom