THE NUMBER OF THE BEAST: SESTINAS

The Number of the Beast

You know you really want to take on The Number of the Beast this week, right?! We'll be working with an ancient form of torture/I mean poetry, The Sestina. Some of the most contemporary and linguistically clever sestinas can be found online at http://www.mcsweeneys.net/links/sestinas/ - including poems about Maidenform bras, domesticated sestinas, Christian pop-stars, fake sestinas, salvation, reluctant sestinas…

Writing Prep: Read the chapter on Sestinas in 13 Ways. Be sure to read at least one of these sestinas out loud, to feel the way repetition of the six words helps the poet gather momentum for the envoi.

Basic Sestina Etiquette: six words, each coming at the end of a line, are repeated in a pre-determined order, ultimately forming six six-line stanzas; all six words are included in a final, 3-line stanza commonly called the envoi. The standard "illustration" for the order of the six words is:

1,2,3,4,5,6

6,1,5,2,4,3

3,6,4,1,2,5

5,3,2,6,1,4

4,5,1,3,6,2

2,4,6,5,3,1

2,5,4,3,6,1

You can find a line-by-line template in 13 Ways.

However, if you are one of those people who have difficulty keeping numbers straight, even in template form, try this: a “sestina generator”! No, it doesn’t write the poem for you; but it does take your six key words and order them correctly into six stanzas, plus the final 3-line stanza called an envoi. http://dilute.net/sestinas/ is the place to go. Once you’ve got your words in order, copy them down, and start having fun.

Suggestions:

1. choose words that “cluster” together: for example, two nouns, two verbs, two adjectives. Example: fountain, clarinet, trickle, slide, soft, striped.

2. pick a topic you want to write about and create a list of words that refer to that topic. Example: insomnia: heartbeat, eyes, pillow, sheets, toss, breath, clock, tick, sigh, darkness, book, tea, mattress, frustration, curse … then choose the six words that you feel are most likely to help you write this poem.

3. freewrite about a topic of your choice. Go for ten minutes, or until you find the beginning of your poem. Maybe even write the entire first draft of a poem. Maybe even take an OLD poem that you don’t much like or never finished. Pick out six words. Start the sestina pattern using those words.

4. Choose six words from a poem (by someone else) that you really, really love. Try to write out a six-sentence story, ending each one with one of those words. Start the sestina pattern.

5. Choose words that can have more than one meaning (even if it means spelling the word differently), or that can double as noun and verb; for example: swallow, right, wind, ring, bell, loft, keep, leaves, may, long, saw, nail, wind, sail…

6. Read the sestina “Anna Karenina (or, like, Most of It)” by Jonah Winter (below). Notice how Winter uses the repetition to his advantage by making some of his six words slang or idioms. Try a mix: nouns, adverbs, verbs, conjunctions, prepositions, articles, interjections. Consider trying to summarize one of the “greats” like Moby Dick, Last of the Mohicans, The Snows of Kilamanjaro, The Invisible Man, On the Road; a fairy tale; a TV series; a series of unfortunate events...

Anna Karenina (or, like, most of it)
by Jonah Winter

So, like, I read this really cool novel that was like
all about these different relationships?
You know like there were these different couples and like
some of the couples were like, okay, or whatever, but, there was this one couple that was like so
unhappy! I mean, it was like, WOW,
you know? The wife was like, married to this big dude

who was like, you know—real intense. Dude,
I'm serious, this guy was like
majorly into making money and like, ignoring his wife, until she was just like: "Wow,
this is NOT what I signed up for," right? I mean, like, their relationship
was like—Oh. My. God. —TOTALLY unfulfilling. TOTALLY!!! So,
like, then there are these other characters too? And they've all got these like

in-CRED-ibly long names, and things like that. (I think they're like
related or something.) Anyway, like, so, this wife falls in love with this other dude
who's like, I guess, *totally* amazing—and they are like SO
into each other it's not even funny. Seriously. She's just like
"Oh my God this is like a real relationship.
Wow."

And then like, she goes to visit her brother or something. Wow.
This is such an incredibly intense novel, it's hard to like
remember stuff. Okay. So, anyway, her brother's like also having problems in his relationship
with his wife. And his wife is like, "Dude,
what the fuck?" And he's like
"What?" And she's like, "That is just SO

uncool to just like, SMILE right now." Cause you know like he was like SO
busted when his wife you know like caught him with the maid? And his sister was like, "Wow,
so, I guess you can't help me." And he was like,
"What-Ever." Or, you know, "RELAX." And she was like,
"Later, dude."
So then like her husband finds out about her relationship—

and THAT is DEFINITELY not cool with him. And so then like THEIR relationship
actually gets like, even worse? Cause he is just like SO
telling her what to do and stuff, how he's gonna like, hurt her, and stuff, and she is like "Dude," I'm outta here." And so like she goes back to the other dude, and he is like "Wow,
it's really great to see you!" And so like
I guess they're not, like, using protection that night? and so she gets like,

you know—pregnant. And that's when things get like really fucked up in their relationship. Cause you know like they're not married or anything and so
she just goes "Wow. Now I'm gonna have to OFF myself... DUDE!!!"


7. Just for fun, try this “Mad Libs Sestina” by Leah Fasulo. It gets your juices flowing and yes, it’s okay to laugh.

A Mad Libs Sestina

BY LEAH FASULO

Mad Libs Sestina: __exclamation__!

She steps out onto the yellow __noun (2 syllables)—A____
adv (2)__. "Goddamn you, __noun (3)__!" she shouts,
And her words ring like __adj (1)__ __noun (1)__ through the night.
The water is still but the lights are __adj (1)—B__.
And with every step, she __verb (1)__ __adv (3)—C__:
"Is that God's __body part (2)__ or is it my own?"

It isn't hard to __verb (2)__ on her own.
She just needs a __noun (2)__ on the __repeat A__.
Two suns and a moon have passed __repeat C__
But she feels like a __noun (2)__ when she shouts,
So she __verb (3)__ instead and feels __repeat B__
Like __adj (2)__ __color (1)__ at the end of the night.

Was her __noun (2)__ __adj (2)__ the other night?
Or did she just __verb (1)__ the __noun (1)__ of her own__
body part (1)__? The answer is in the __noun (2)__ of __repeat B__
Which is hidden deep under the __repeat A__
In the realm of __made-up word (3)__. If she shouts
__adv (1)__ enough, it will come out __repeat C__.

Rarely does she __verb (1)__ __plural noun (2)__ __repeat C__,
So instead she lies down for the __adj (1)__ night.
If she can't __verb (1)__ the __noun (2)__ with her shouts,
Then she'd rather just __verb (2)__ on her own.
Pulling a __noun (2)__ onto the __repeat A__,
She falls asleep, feeling __adj (2)__ and __repeat B__.

Once asleep, she __verb (2)__ and dreams of __repeat B
__Angels, each looking at her __repeat C__.
They __verb (1)__ their __adj (1)__ __body part (2)__ at the __repeat A__
And whisper, "__verb (1)__ the __noun (1)__, __girl's name (2)__. The night
Is __adj (2)__, and you surely do not own
The __noun (2)__." She awakes to her own shouts.

And to hers join other __adj (3)__ shouts,
Billowing into __ plural noun (1)__ of __adj (2)__ __repeat B__,
Reminding her that her __noun (1)__ is her own
Worst __noun (3)__, and she should __repeat C____
verb (2)__ the __adj (1)__ and __adj (1)__ __ plural noun (1)__ of the night:
At last, she __verb (3)__ the __repeat A__.

All night, the __adj (1)__ shouts of friends __verb (1)__ her __body part (1)__,
But she lets them __verb (2)__ __repeat C__ __repeat B__,
Ready to __verb (2)__ life on her own __repeat A__.

 
Other tips:  use homonyms (sun/son, whirled/world, time/thyme), enjambment of lines, plurals, phrases that include your word (house-of-cards when the end word is cards, boathouse when the end word is house) to rescue your sestina from the deadly repetitive machinery of the 6 word limitation.  Be creative, be inventive, take chances.  13 Ways also has two poems that are reverse Sestinas - the repeated 6 words all come at the beginning of the line, rather than the end.  One author also gave herself permission to use palindromes for words!


Here's my attempt at a Sestina, followed by those 6 Word Sestinas I promised you in class:



Jacinta’s Medicine
Jacinta Gonzalez, an Indian woman at Mission San Carlos (Carmel), worked at the restaurant frequented by Robert Louis Stevenson in Monterey, and was called on to nurse him during one of his severe illnesses in 1879. She also recorded gambling songs and a coyote myth for Alfred Kroeber in 1902. She passed away in the Influenza Epidemic of 1917.

It was the same old story:
witless white man gets lost, plants
himself face-first in the Carmel hills, dreamy head
translating scent of oak into black words.
But mean spirits hunt the soft breath
of lonely men like that, take what’s left.

They pierce the body like knives, leave
a man swollen with poisonous stories.
Now he lies abed, fevered, breath
rattling his throat like a dried up plant.
They call for me: Jacinta, you know words.
Come lay your hands on his forehead.

But what I know are medicines from heads
much older than mine; crushed leaves
gathered from windswept hills, not words
so much as roots, not roots so much as story.
I made a plaster for his chest, planted
a mugwort bundle under his pillow. Breathe,

I hummed into his glittering eyes, breathe.
Heard the dark buzzing inside his head,
knew the spirits wanted to supplant
his soul. Between his fingers I left
the sticky cobwebs of a story.
The only cure for ghost words

are salty cleansing waves of words.
Sail oceans, I said, dream islands, give breath
to your own cure. Make up a story,
scare the poison out of your head;
I’ll catch it in my hand when it leaves,
strangle it, burn it, plant

the ashes under a redwood. I planned
to sit up all night. He muttered words
in his sleep: pirate, treasure, shore leave.
When the sun rose, his breath
turned easy, his pale creased forehead
cooled. Just one more hard-luck story.

My plants gave him back his breath.
Together, we dreamt words to clear his head,
ordered poison to leave. The rest is history.
                                  - Deborah A. Miranda




A few poets have even created more of a challenge for themselves, by creating '6 word' Sestinas.  Check these two out:

Six Words by Lloyd Schwartz yes          no maybe sometimes always never Never? Yes. Always? No. Sometimes? Maybe— maybe never sometimes. Yes— no always: always maybe. No— never yes. Sometimes, sometimes (always) yes. Maybe never . . . No,         no— sometimes. Never. Always? Maybe. Yes— yes no maybe sometimes always never.

Valentine Sestina

by Peter Pereira

So
I
love
always.
Will
you?

You
so
will
I
always
love.

Love
you
always,
so
I
will.

Will
love
I
you
so
always?

Always
will
so
love
you
I.

I
always
you
will
love
so.

I will
always love
you so.

Don't be afraid of the Sestina form. It is well-suited to rants (or what some poets call "Rantinas"), descriptions of ritual, and to long, cyclical, repetitive patterns about human relationships, physics, biology, and the cosmos. Your aim here is to go with the flow. Don't resist. You do have to give up some control, but then again, it's good to practice giving up control gracefully!  Stay directed and focused. Sestinas are a little like riding the rapids of a very fast river. Grab your life-jacket.