Written in Concrete

One time my editor called and asked me to write her a poem in a circle. I wasn’t sure what she meant, and I asked her to explain. She recited one of her favorite poems that she remembered from her childhood. The poem was in the shape of a circle, and it didn’t have an end because the last line went directly into the first line, and the poem could keep going forever.

“I don’t think that I can write a poem like that,” I told her.

“How do you know?” she asked.

“I’ve never done it,” I replied.

She answered me with one word: “Try.”

I said that I would, and even though I was pretty sure that I couldn’t do it, she expressed a lot of confidence in me and told me that she’d be surprised if I didn’t come up with something.

When I hung up the phone, I took a piece of paper, drew a circle on it, and made a few notes around the circle. Then I had a happy accident. I dropped the paper, and when I bent down to pick it up, practically the whole poem popped right into my head. I would write a poem about walking in a circle and picking up a piece of paper that had some writing on it.

Ten minutes later I called my editor back and read her my poem. She was astonished, and she loved it. Here’s the poem:image


I Was Walking in a Circle

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I enjoyed writing that poem so much that I wrote several more poems like it, including one in the shape of a triangle, one that winds around all over the place, and one in mirror writing. This last poem is much easier to read if you hold it up to a mirror.

Since then, I’ve written quite a few of these poems. For example, I’ve written a poem that works its way through a maze, a poem in the shape of a funnel that’s about falling through that funnel, a poem that takes place inside an egg, and a one-word poem about an unusually clumsy owl.

Here it is:image

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