Doris Mitsch: Poetry Found in the Cloud
by Doris Mitsch, Feb 8, 2013
Poetry isn’t so easy. Art isn’t so easy—that is, getting it right, ending up with something that lifts one into another place, a place that one keeps forgetting about. Perhaps it’s the way these poems were made that gives them a special grace. The words were not written by the poet herself. Each poem here was put together via a process of selection from an Internet search. Of course the choices are all made by the poet, but I wonder if there isn’t something else here, the kind of magic that can come only from getting outside of oneself. These pieces have that originality, that taste of freedom that’s always new. Here is a preview—two of the six poems that will appear in issue #26 of works & conversations. They were chosen from a little volume by Mitsch of twenty-one of these poems. And the poet is also a photographer. The photo here is a cropped version from her "Domestic Animals Series."—Richard Whittaker
Tell me About Yourself, You and the World
Tell me about yourself, cover four areas in your life.
Tell me about your dreams,
Your country wedding.
Tell me about your first time.
Tell me about a time when you traveled somewhere.
Tell me about the Pilgrims’ Rest café,
The famous Marriage Rooms at Chelsea,
Tell me about laughing clubs in Hyderabad.
Tell me a Swiss joke.
Tell me about the forest you once called home.
Tell me about the eclectic and solitary pagans.
Tell me about the temporary things.
Tell me your best thing.
Tell me all that you know.
from about 3,420,000 results of a search for the phrase “TELL ME”
I’m Searching / Je Cherche / Ich Suche
I’m from Germany and I’m searching for whimsies a long time.
What I’m searching for are test results, lessons learned,
and interesting tidbits,
I’m searching for information on the use of green,
For trumpet-harp music,
For fossilized bones.
I’m searching for a certain tattoo I want to get,
I’m searching for a poem titled “The Empty Chair.”
I’m searching for some rhythm and timing.
I’m searching for words I can say.
I’m searching for expression, tired of breathing fads and fetish.
I’m searching for patterns, predictability, principles to apply.
I’m searching for, in this strange place,
For some kind of connection here, something profound.
For a memory that was grey and beautiful,
I’m searching for my place—no, damn it,
I’m searching for something, something so undefined.
I think you might be a bit confused about what I’m searching for.
from about 57,600 results of a search for the phrase “I’M SEARCHING FOR
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