“Canada Dry, the champagne of ginger ales”. Bubbly like champagne, tawny like champagne, but not actually champagne. Write a poem which sounds as if it has been Oulipoed, but, in fact, hasn’t.
I’m not certain how successful I was, but it was fun and zany, and had a building and retreating line constraint. Ouliposter Carol Stephen had a wonderful homage to the beverage in question, and you can see the effervescent writing of the other Ouliposters at the Found Poetry Review.
“I’m doing the best I can”
When dealing with a gnome-obsessed local
holding a guitar and a bunch of cherries,
constantly pulling down the sleeves
of his drab sweatshirt,
when the leviathan known as reality
comes from her own past into
a dashingly painted, double-wide trailer,
when it doesn’t quite pay off – the saintliness
of the father against the son
when the words that were audible
weren’t always the right ones
you need an ability to call things
by their real names, a love of disguises
fancy dress (and I don’t mean a lot);
you need acolytes – predictably quirky –
characters who used to fight, all the time,
but now continue to enthrall us, less
like real people than expository devices.
Boston Globe, April 29, 2014
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