exercise from class #5: 15-minute spill (prose poem)

[novapsyche]

The average man wears trousers, but the best lounge in baggy linen. One such type waltzed into a china shop, hoping to purchase a bookshelf of cedar. Within his hand he held the design he desired, a near-Celtic knotwork carved deep into the flesh. He wandered from one store to the next, his fugue a sapient one: he imbibed the sights and curiosities with unvarnished relish. His traipsing led him to the harbor, the salt-swept air lingering in his nose, astringent. He filled his hands with sand, witnessed the waves litter the shore with shells. Two ships out to sea sounded their foghorns like whales emitting mating songs. Such was his fortune, this Swede who eschewed Swiss leather, this globetrotter who peered into dark places, this lark who spelunked in underground mansions, exploring the nether secrets nestled there. His vision, telescopic, garnered him insight into the nature of shadows.



Words that had to be used: fortune, whales, bookshelf, carved, shell, telescopic, average, baggy, relish, concoction, Swiss, nether. (Obviously, concoction is missing from the above--I ran out of time.)

I call this "15-minute spill" because it reminds me of the 10-minute spill described by Rita Dove in The Practice of Poetry.