Shards that, however carefully arranged, Are indistinguishable from random Scatters of letters and spaces on the page
— page 164, Context Collapse (A Poem Containing A History Of Poetry) by Ryan Ruby
Poem is loop is poem is loop is poem
A place to gather words before they get lost.
Shards that, however carefully arranged, Are indistinguishable from random Scatters of letters and spaces on the page
— page 164, Context Collapse (A Poem Containing A History Of Poetry) by Ryan Ruby
Poem is loop is poem is loop is poem
Laughter in shadows; mirth, taking on new meaning as she walked away
For paratexts, in a word, more than for texts
— page 114, Context Collapse (A Poem Containing A History Of Poetry) by Ryan Ruby
On the way outside where the world awaits, button up the jackets, the blankets, the scarf, the buffering artifice built around words, the editorial explanation which soon becomes the thing itself, so that a poem gets lost, again, later to be found, again, stranded in some memory of what once had been sung before being written
Old snow boots crunching on the ice; January's a coat we can't quit
for Algot
He vows, his fingers pounding out this pact On the keys of his new writing machine
— page 86, Context Collapse (A Poem Containing A History Of Poetry) by Ryan Ruby
With broken nails and callused skin, a writer works with little more than a word from which to begin: a poem, a story, a note to a lover scratched on newspaper – it's only later that she wonders if it's madness or something more that has his words, clicking like a machine at midnight, rapping at her door
When print is taking to its logical Conclusion: free verse
— page 80, Context Collapse (A Poem Containing A History Of Poetry) by Ryan Ruby
Place your pennies inside the jar, and hear the metal coins jingle against the glass - this jail cell beckons to every poem, written; it's worth mentioning that poets are free to write but always remain captive to the confines of their poems
A quiet traverse through winter's nighttime forest; eyes and ears, alert
... the privatized public learns to sing With its eyes alone, moving them across The printed page in silence
— page 48, Context Collapse (A Poem Containing A History Of Poetry) by Ryan Ruby
Is that the voice humming at night when all is dark and stories return from just beyond the noticeable moment, eyes closed, but still in focus in hopes of recovery of what was once there, but now disappeared?
The poet invites the public to play A hubristic game of hide-and-go-seek
— page 16, Context Collapse (A Poem Containing A History Of Poetry) by Ryan Ruby
Game pieces and movement on a board of squares; words, just little buttons, and the dice, our vice; our voice, of course, spitting out rhymes in lines as if gods were ever listening; they are not, nor never were, too busy as they are making worlds we'll never find faith to live in
And who are they, this multiplicity? On principle: anyone allowed through The door: as many ears can be placed Close enough to hear the poet say: sing ....
— page 6, Context Collapse (A Poem Containing A History Of Poetry) by Ryan Ruby
And what of the poet with no audience to speak of, to speak to;
still, they write, as if those ears were at the door, listening for the singing, a melody into the void
Some words just scatter into nothingness; a poem is as fragile as old furniture, pieces broken on the floor