F is for Found Poetry

I’ve posted some found poetry on this blog before (see here or here). I think I referred to it as “accidental poetry,” but it amounts to the same thing. Found poetry is a pretty self-explanatory term: it is language that you find in a non-poetic context and then reframe (sometimes intact, sometimes with the addition of line breaks or other grammatical changes) as poetry.

For a few months now the booksellers at the store where I work have been keeping track of found poems discovered in the inventory sorts that we run. We made them into a tumblr (that’s a generous “we” — I had no real part in the making or maintenance of said tumblr, I just like to feel included) called Bookseller’s Found Poetry. They might be slightly more amusing to our addled, book-buried brains, but here are a couple of my favorites:

Emotional life of your
language (the cultural):
feeling pain and being, in
secret: life of words.

– – – –

Outside your window, a
heart + soul.


– – – –

Spinoza now
is eating people

– – – –

Gender Born, Gender Made,
emotions revealed.
Telling lies – clues to deceit.

Pink Brain, Blue Brain:
You are Here.
You are Here.
Going on being.
Going to pieces without
psychotherapy.  Without
thoughts.  Without a thinker.


– – – –
And last but not least…
– – – –
I got this
Steve Jobs
man within my head.
– – – –
So many Steve Jobs books! Is that only funny to me? Maybe. But there are other poetic gems in there, so you should go explore for yourself!

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