The prof wants to know how changing genres (tweets, microfiction, haiku, formal poem) impacted my "writing and meaning making."

I'll be honest: as a writer, none of these genres fell within my "happy zone." I'm not a poetry person, I don't think in terms of short stories, and tweeting my thoughts/status/whatever feels downright unnatural. Every one of these pieces has, in some way, been dedicated to obstructing meaning. I don't make a habit of baring my soul online, or in general; so no matter the veracity of the tweets, they rarely slip below surface level.

On the bright side, at least I know I'll be working with some sort of fiction for the idiot Twitterive.

Changing tweets to microfiction, I was just trying to make something vaguely entertaining, so I found the weirdest line I could and put it in a bizarre context. No real deep meaning intended.

The Anzaldúa-inspired microfiction was probably the closest I got to "feelings" with a slightly auto-biographical twinge of meaning; but this idea was also a small part of a multi-genre paper I did for Writer's Mind, so it's not like anything was a secret.

With the Anzaldúa exception, I don't think I really started anything with a plan. Yes, I was changing meaning, but there wasn't a clear "meaning" to start with, so that's no surprise. Planning-wise, especially on the poems, I picked lines as I came across them and figured out what they said as I put them together. One-step process. Yes, there were moments I wished I'd had other words to work with, but you work with what you have and don't dwell on it.

Wow, this really makes it sound like I just slapped everything together without any thought whatsoever. Ouch.

I honestly don't know if I'm trying to create or distort meaning with any of these pieces. Maybe a little of both. Oh well, hopefully I'll have a better idea of what I'm doing with the idiot Twitterive. :)

This post contains two haiku, composed of lines from the microfictions in my last post, and a "found poem" which is comprised of words/phrases/what-have-you from 10 of my tweets...which you'll see below at some point. Cheers. (And I swear, if this thing keeps messing up my formatting, there will be violence.)

Haiku #1:
Keeping her mouth shut
Sometimes she wishes she were
Down the silent hole


Haiku #2
We’re making progress
Masked in peeling charcoal paint
Down a narrow hall


Found Poem, created from the following tweets:
1. #twitterive #wrt1 This does not sound like a recipe I should have any part in cooking...food burns around me.
2. #twitterive Not claustrophobia, but stifling. Invisible weight. He tenido bastante. Por favor, no más. Headache.
3. #twitterive Watched a hilariously violent movie last night. Dreamed a psychotic (but non-violent) workplace job after. This scares me.
4. #twitterive Homework always inspires anxiety...and the sinking knowledge that I'll leave it til the last minute, increasing anxiety.
5. #twitterive Gray shapes materialize from within a milky land cloud, slowly becoming clearer, darker, more defined. It's pretty cool. :)
6. #twitterive House is quiet. Not the quiet of all asleep. The quiet of empty. Oppressive. Not silence, but nothing.
7. #twitterive Just read about a friend's trials and triumphs with tea, as well as a *gasp* guy who cooks and folds laundry!
8. #twitterive Estoy contenta; estoy en mi sótano con una taza de té (Inglés té del desayuno)...y con mucha tarea. Buen, nada es perfecto.
9. #twitterive Empty offices, silent but for the hum of heaters and tower fans. Warm enough to make you sleepy, cold enough to make you work.
10. #twitterive Rain pitter-patters down the chimney, dozens of pings and plonks against the metal, an onslaught of percussion and symphony.

The Actual Poem:

I should have watched.
Trials and triumphs,
Anxiety perfecto, invisible knowledge:
The quiet of empty.

I dreamed darker silence.
This scares me.
I watched  symphony materialize.
I’ll leave it.

An onslaught of cold,
Sound enough to burn,
The last minute defined,
But nothing.