Day 9: Found Poem on Jack London's Wikipedia page

I've never written a found poem before today, but the prompt was to try something you've never done.  So ... here is a "found poem".  A poem where every word is taken from the current Wikipedia page on Jack London.  I don't think I found much.  But, it was fun to try.  This poem is taken from the section on Jack's first marriage to Bess.  It was during this time that he wrote some of his most successful novels (including The Call of the Wild),  but though they had two daughters together, Jack and Bess weren't happily married and Jack had affairs including with  Anna Strunsky,with whom he wrote The Kempton-Wallace Letters.  I followed a pattern and wrote down every fifth word.  Then, just punctuated what I had.  Not sure it's a poem, but, it was interesting to try!

Found Poem – Wikipedia Page on Jack London
Born author, he, the commercial one, and
his best of set "To Build a Fire" as
of The Sea Wolf. Advocate with his
non-fiction.
April 7, 1900 was part friends years.
Stage Stasz that out friendship
they Kingman together clear
did that to during his
The Kempton-Wace Letters philosophies
"Dane Kempton's" romantic London
for on the contrasted known

Bess London child January 15, 1901
later both Piedmont, California
of The Call of the Wild. In was
by close were was gentle
Cloudsley Johns in suspect marriage devoted
tell evidence she me for terrible
back home won't the if Stasz
"code" that prostitutes venereal

Bessie moved and on

20. Worth a Fortune Word of the Day: sibylline

Two poems in one day.  I bet you guessed this one would be about Jack London, too?  Here is a poem I wrote off of another photograph from Jack London Photography book.  I could get over how Jack London called photographs "human documents".  Here is a poem I wrote off of a photograph of London working at his outside desk in Glen Ellen in 1903.


Sibylline Photograph - Jack London, 1903

“If we could read one human face aright
the history not only of man, but
of humanity itself is written there.” –J. L.
He is bent over his manuscript.  Eyes
look down. Clear, without a squint. Unfiltered
cigarette dangling out of the right side
of his mouth. His fingers are ink-stained.  Pen
taut.  Papers are neatly stacked.    Sun still out
(must be late morning). Behind him rises
the afternoon shade of the massive Scrub
Oak (due to be cut down this year). Behind
him rises the dappled crown of shadow
that will ebb and fall.  Behind each sun-warmed
leaf, a darkness presses.  Behind him time
pushes and breathes on the back of his neck.
Caption reads, London working on The Sea Wolf.
Photograph so exposed, the page looks blank.