Eclectic Crap

I am So Hungry

I really want some lasagna

Oatmeal for breakfast is a sad fossilized memory in my digestive system

And I have four classes left and a million burning regrets that I didn’t pack a lunch.

(I wish I could block out the symphony of pretzel eating coming from the girl beside me)

 

And I have four classes left and a million burning regrets that I didn’t pack a lunch.

I’m marinating in jealousy from the sound and smell of classmates food- ziploc bags everywhere

Are notebooks edible? I imagine them as sandwiches with stories like mustard on the crust

And I try to watch the slideshow but I’m too busy daydreaming about burritos and peaches

 

Are notebooks edible? I imagine them as sandwiches with stories, like mustard on the crust

Class is almost over, I swear my stomach is eating itself, dreaming of pizza or egg rolls.

Desperately seeking distractions, I scroll through the eternities of Twitter, #feasting

I swear I can smell through the hashtags, the pictures of your breakfast

 

Class is almost over, I swear my stomach is eating itself, dreaming of pizza or egg rolls

And I have four classes left and a million burning regrets that I didn’t pack a lunch.

I swear I can smell through the hashtags, the pictures of your breakfast

I really want some lasagna

 

notes:

This seems to be a recurring theme in my artistic life (along with writing about food), but writing this once again reminded me that I can’t force creativity, I can only sit down and work and then revise till my laptop dies and I have to carve a new one out of the rocks outside my building and harness electricity from lightning and break into the wifi network. I didn’t actually have to do that for this poem, but I will now add that to my bucket list. Anyways, this poem was a formal poem, specifically a Pantoum. I love this form because the cleverness of the poem almost creates itself with forced repetition that makes you think ahead and when it’s all over, you’re surprised by the meaning that the ending gives it when you didn’t even mean to make it that way, it’s just the rules. Or at least that’s how I saw it. As I revised this, I took out the subtitle “A Hyperbolic Poem from this Classroom at Noon” because, as John advised me, it gave away the joke. I also took out a few other lines, such as “I didn’t pack a lunch” that told too much, and I took out some “fancy pants words” as he called them, but not all of them because using them feels like satire in this, and I like that, it’s not meant to be serious or humble, it’s hyperbole and it’s purposefully over-dramatic. My group also encouraged me to incorporate more food-related wording such as “marinate”, which I did and loved, as well as adding more about Twitter, and so I added the hashtag.

Written for  a Creative Writing class, Freshman year @ BYU

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