One day, I’m going to apply for a patent for Office in a Box. You may have seen it before, and mistaken it for a narrow plastic crate middle schoolers stack in their lockers to keep their textbooks and supplies organized. I no longer have a middle schooler, so I have his discarded crate. Flipped on its side, it is the perfect height to hold my laptop at eye level. The open space beneath it holds my pencil box, notebooks, and a small white sea shell. When I decide I need a change of scenery, I turn the crate upright, slide my laptop inside along with the cables, my wireless keyboard and mouse, and my files, and carry it off to a new location, preferably with windows. Office in a Box.
I work from home. My office is in in the basement. And on days when I’m not on the road adjusting claims, I might spend over 10 hours at the desk, so that change of scenery is sometimes needed.
But even if I don’t want to go to the effort of packing up my Office in a Box, I have options. I have the large oak library desk (stacked with files and papers) with scratches and burn marks and water stains, where I can work to the squeaking cadence of a webbed black desk chair. I have the long, elbow-height counter constructed with an unfinished hollow-core closet door and 2x4s over industrial shelving (stacked with books and notebooks) where I work standing up, shifting my weight from one foot to the other in time with the keyboard tapping. And when I need to read or take a Skype call, I’ll prop myself up on the bed (stacked with folded laundry) with the brown and olive striped comforter. (Yes, my office converts to the guest room when needed.)
Glynn Young says there’s poetry in the workplace. We can bring it, or we can find what’s already there. In chapter 3 of his new book Poetry at Work, he considers the poetry of the workspace, whether it’s a corner office, a cubicle space, or like my workspace, a makeshift office a few steps down from the kitchen:
A workspace contains a certain rhythm and cadence and language and flow and structure, and, well, poetry, that characterizes these places where work gets done. The utilitarian cubicle, for example, might be compared to the minimalist, spare structure of the haiku. The two best speeches I ever wrote were both composed in a cubicle—the spare, simple language of the texts mirrored the sparseness of that workspace. A conference room, by comparison, is a kind of villanelle, where certain things (or lines) get endlessly repeated. (Poetry at Work, p. 32)
I’ve worked on the corporate cubicle farm, every space carefully measured and metered in six square feet (probably iambic). Try putting a guest bed in that little space that never requires the worker to leave his chair, every file and stapler and coffee mug so easily within arm’s reach. My workspace now is a cobbled together combination of spaces—sitting, standing, lying down spaces and those you can pack into a box—where I work an odd combination of jobs from hour to hour, from claim adjusting to writing to illustration and design.
My workspace now, I think, is most like a Cento.
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We’re reading Poetry at Work together this month. Are you reading along? In chapter 3, Glynn invites us to look hard at our workspace: at the sounds, smells, lighting, uniquenesses, and then to write a short poem about it. Perhaps you’d share yours in the comments. Other chapters this week considered how to recognize a poet at work, the poetry of the job interview, the poetry of the commute, the poetry of the boss, and even the poetry of PowerPoint and vision statements. Share your thoughts with us in the comments on your favorite chapter, and any poems or observations you wrote along the way.
Join us next week as we continue our discussion. And of course, don’t forget to celebrate Poetry at Work Day on Tuesday, January 14, in your office. Check out our Poetry at Work Day Survival Kit and Resource Table for great ideas to celebrate.
January 8: The Poetry of the Workspace (Introduction – Chapter 7)
January 15: Chapters 8 – 12
January 22: Chapters 13 – 20
Photo by Mugley. Creative Commons license via Flickr. Post by L. Willingham Lindquist.
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Poetry at Work, by Glynn Young, foreword by Scott Edward Anderson
“This book is elemental.”
—Dave Malone
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Sandra Heska King says
Ack! I apparently waited too long to order. Still no footsteps in the snow. I think UPS took a wrong turn in the storm. Maybe today.
I followed the link to Angela’s post (which I’d missed) and bumped into my new friend. I took note: “big, fat, magnificent Cento.” Is that cheating?
Maureen Doallas says
Remember those little flower holders that one could adhere to a car dashboard? I think Poetry in a Vase might be a cool addition to your Office in a Box to distinguish it from Cisco’s collapsible solution and a whole raft of others with all-in-one workstations. Poetry is definitely the route to take the concept. Give it its own platform. Maybe offer it with its own personalized copy of Glynn’s book or, for the first 10 purchasers, a subscription to Every Day Poems. No water needed. Evergreen. Press it and out pops a poem.
Will Willingham says
Oh, man. I just googled it and see my idea (or it least the name of it) is not so original. 🙂
Oh, well. I like the Poetry in a Vase idea though. Will have to get to work on that one. 😉
Glynn says
I also like “Poetry in a Briefcase.” Or “Poetry in a Backpack.” Or “Poetry in a Purse,” Poetry in a Wallet,” and “Poetry in a Pocketbook.”
Maureen Doallas says
I like Poetry in Mind.
We’ve seen Poetry Dresses and Poetry in Motion but maybe not Poetry from the Bottom of My Shoe, Step Up to Poetry – but never Down with Poetry; A Cup of Poetry (It’s Not Too Sweet), Rolling Poetry (It Leaves a Trail), Poetry in the Houselights, The Poetry of Heavy Medals (Not the Nobel), Poetry Briefs (Not the Kind You Wear), Clip-on Poetry. . . we could go on.
Maureen Doallas says
Yours is much simpler in design, more economical, and recyclable. What’s not to love?
Will Willingham says
Oh, I hope the book comes soon. But, Angela’s Cento post is the best. A good way to fill the gap, with a big, fat, magnificent Cento. 🙂
Jody Lee Collins says
‘Office in a Box’–you could so totally do that. I’m enjoying this book very much and found Chapter 3 to be my favorite so far of the first 7.
Here’s a link to my piece about Glynn’s book:
http://threewaylight.blogspot.com/2014/01/poetry-at-work.html
I’ll be back to chat later as others weigh in.
Yay!
Will Willingham says
Loved this in your post, Jody:
“With all the educational requirements of the not-teaching that must be done–consuming precious time to impact the lives of these same young children–the life and joy can get sucked right out of the job. What’s a person to do?
“Look for the poetry.”
And love the way you are embracing your Substitute Revolutionary role. 😉
Glynn says
Jody, thanks so much – really enjoyed the article.
Maureen Doallas says
And maybe a new graphic for next Tuesday? Poetry in a Box. . . for the Workspace that Needs a Little Inspiration.
Will Willingham says
Worth thinking about, Maureen. 🙂
Glynn says
Maureen, you would make a good art director.
Maureen Doallas says
I sold a friend on the idea of a Party in a Box. It’s her next project.
Poetry in a Box might go over well as an employee anniversary award; think of all the English majors working in offices. Could be framed or not. Printed as a broadside, or not (that would be the expensive version). Custom-made for college English departments, depending on course of study in the particular semester. Oh, we could do wonders with this.
Ann Kroeker says
Things are messy enough in my workspace, I might have a “found poem” somewhere in the mess. On the other hand, I’m starting to organize myself using Wunderlist, so maybe I’m working on/in a “list poem”?
Will Willingham says
Oh, that would be cool. I want to see Ann try to do a poem from her Wunderlist. 😉
Jody Lee Collins says
Glynn, finally weighing in here (I was teaching all day :-). May I speak to the subject of Power Points? Chapter 7. Oy! As an attendee (victim?) of one too many trainings by zealous educators fond of their own ideas and language, I can attest to the fact that way too much information is buried in translation. Your suggestion of ‘less is more’ is a point well taken. Maureen should be an Art Director (smile) and may I suggest you’d be an excellent resource for educators everywhere?
Lorrie says
Loving your book Glynn!! I’ve been reading it in my cubicle during lunchtime. I AM the poet at work.. no doubt about that.
Will Willingham says
Long live the poet at work. 🙂
Megan Willome says
My whole office is my laptop, but my boss let me pick out a case, which makes it feel less utilitarian and more … red! (It’s red leather.) I prefer to work outside, on the back porch, but we’ve actually had winter this year. Instead I’ve been setting up in the sunniest room in the house, which is right next to the back porch. I need the annoyance of barking dogs to do my best work. Not sure what kind of poem goes with annoying, barking dogs.
Will Willingham says
Red, yes. Of course it’s red. 🙂 I suppose a red office might be a bit much. Love that you can work outside. I do often, including this week, polar vortex and all, but it’s not quite the same as one’s back porch. (In fact, my office for part of one day this week was US Highway 12, looking for mile marker 269.2. It was about -3, the high point of the day.)
Why do you suppose you need the barking dogs? (Fascinating.)
Marcy Terwilliger says
Megan Willome my office is my laptop too! Like you I prefer to work outside on the long covered porch or the huge patio in the shade but like you we’ve actually had a cold winter with snow. Two French doors lead me outside but I sit up high in a chair around a small table there. What bugs me is the neighbor who rented the tent for Halloween and still leaves parts of the mess in their backyard. Just ruins the heck out of what I see each day. I need to write her a poem about her tent mess.
nance.mdr says
( for poetry at work and doors )
january 9
the old door ajar
cobwebs sticking
a small light
it shines
through the crack
i hear
one word…
work
so so soft
like a gentle breeze
and in it
the tease of a pleasing bite
a taste of honey on lips
a gentle push
sends the door creaking
tangled silk floating
dust swimming
colours swirling
a whispering of words
january 9 at nance.mdr
Will Willingham says
Cobwebs. I have those in my office, too. 🙂
Sandra Heska King says
I got my book. I wrote a five (maybe ten) minute poem.
http://sandraheskaking.com/2014/01/poetry-work-space/
Sandra Heska King says
I love when you whisper words, Nancy.