Jody Azzouni

Jody's Notes

(January 9, 2013)

This is one of those poems I wrote while playing a kind of game with a friend. We'd exchange images or themes with each other (in a cafe), and try to generate poems around them. I'm pretty sure the theme she gave me was something like: Dead bird on a windshield. Very charming option--deliberately challenging--but I was able to make it work.

Another friend once gave me as a theme: Monkey heads sticking up out of the sidewalk.

I have my limitations, I guess. As a poet, I mean. (And as anything else I try to be. Really.) I wasn't ever able to turn that theme into a poem. And I tried, I really did. For years. I've never forgotten the failure that "Monkey heads sticking up out of the sidewalk," represents for me. I always avert my eyes in sadness whenever the theme comes up in a conversation. (Which, I admit, is never.)

It's the monkey heads, it really is. I've done a lot with sidewalks. Sidewalks invite imagery, a lot of imagery: I've done sidewalks in poems and in short stories. Novels too. But monkey heads in sidewalks, never. You'd think otherwise; some of you are thinking: what a great theme, I can't wait! (I'm joking, I can't believe anyone is thinking that.)

It must not work because the image is too blunt, too domineering (too restrictive in the emotions you're allowed to build around it)--it doesn't invite sidelong glances that are nevertheless relevant because the visualization accompanying the phrase is too loud: severed head--that sort of thing.

It's interesting what works and what doesn't. And why.