The poem:
I am not i. i am You.
you are not Me. if i am You
and u r not Me, you might be i
but u are just a letter: u.
I rob You (Me) of My Being
by being I. let that sink into Me.
By the way, the assignment was to write a sonnet. But in class, the author said that seemed a little constraining, like “fetters on a frog’d log,” and noted that a sonnet was “not the theme I wanted to invoke, which mine kind of reminded me of, like, — okay, you know lace? Like, if there was lace within Lace- i don’t really know how to, like, explain it, but a hidden message in something feminine but also with a masculine series of words and that felt very Visceral to me. Yeah- Idk!”
After 48 full seconds of silence Ribbet responded and said “like, it’s very different writing than I’m used to. Like it’s not what I expected but I think it’s cool that you went in your own direction with it.” Then two other poets nodded their heads and then a full minute went by until the author asked, “did anybody have any comments on my capitalization? I really am interested in interrogating identity I think.”
The professor asked what people thought about what the poem truly meant and what the message might be. Blumenthalia said that “your capitalization is such a rebellious use of capitalization. I feel like something is being said without being said and that’s really cool. Have you thought about maybe adding more lines in the future?”
The author replied that “no I think it’s hopefully very self-containing so I just want to work within the structure – kind of a challenge for me as a writer.” Everybody snapped their fingers and then listened to slam poetry on youtube music. When reached for comment, they demanded we included their quote, “typeface is the language of painting when language itself is artwork.”
one time I shat