Don’t introduce your children to Cousin Al.
Brilliant, love that. It cheered me up no end. Thanks!
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Don’t introduce your children to Cousin Al.
Brilliant, love that. It cheered me up no end. Thanks!
Beth - Glad I was able to cheer you up. We all need some of that these days, I think!
the silted airs and graces of the sea algae
swinging, the flannel shirts and dystopian beards
of bushes manned with flowers, bands shredding
their most popular cuts across the cliffs.
Remember the guitarist I painted with clay,
photographed flattened like a suspect
against the canyon wall? The harsh light killed
his profile. The ocean’s like that, overexposed
flannel shirts and dystopian beards
Much win here!
I'm really looking forward to seeing where this goes.
Moderator
Thanks, Dave.
Exchange, Part III
like the Beatles’ ninth release, and overused
like rolling stones in rock songs; it’s exchanged
between the band: the singer’s ‘O’ pout, the pianist’s
head hung down, the third face obscured by a stand.
The stones are scoured with waves and sand
same as our memories. Woodstock seems wholesome
the way we tell it. Lawyers and bankers
replace Hell’s Angels on Harleys.
This is a lark! I've opened two windows so I can read the strophes side by side. What a novel approach! Love it. Really found this compelling:
The stones are scoured with waves and sand
same as our memories. Woodstock seems wholesome
the way we tell it.
Fantastic!
...our words... come from obsessions we must submit to....~~~~~Richard Hugo
Collaberations stretch you, but are also a lot of fun. Nice job from both of you, the poem is full of great imagery and sonics and *flows* well. I hope you both put it all together once you're finished, both versions in both of your threads, and the photos, and let us know who wrote which. Or not. Sometimes poems are like women; there should be mystery. Heh.
Donner
Moderator
Let the poem do the talking. Then hide behind it.
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Thanks for stopping by Alex and Donner. And thanks Hydro, for me inviting to do this. It was a fun and challenging project. Below is the entire poem, hopefully the same version in both threads, now. My strophes are italicized. The pics we exchanged are posted below. Mine is the little one.
Exchange
You’re turning black tables, this ‘Other Lives’
band sings, over and over. Not one note is flat,
but a negative of the photo of an abandoned barn
on the album cover. Sunlight turns over my table,
highlighting garish covers and photographs
of seventies artists. Oceanside, beach huts
in sorbet colors, old VW vans rust in air
smelling of salt, nostalgia and something else:
the silted airs and graces of sea algae
swinging, the flannel shirts, dystopian bearded
bushes manned with flowers--a band shredding
their most loved cuts across the cliffs.
Remember the guitarist I finger painted with red clay,
photographed spread eagled like a suspect
against the canyon wall? The harsh light killed
his profile. The ocean air is like that, whitewashed, overexposed,
like the Beatles’ ninth release, as overused
as a rolling stone in a rock song, and exchanged
between the band: a singer’s ‘O’ pout, a pianist’s
head hung down, a third face obscured by a stand.
The stones are scoured with waves and sand, clean,
same as our memories. Woodstock seems wholesome
the way we tell it. Lawyers, bankers and dentists
replace Hell’s Angels on Harleys.
Even the Internet is wholesome, when it wants,
and can replace tourism. I have seen Payne County now
in a neutral light. I could paint the day before they froze,
or finished singing. This present plane is all’s required.
Today in Boscombe Overstrand, I’m at a pub. The accents,
sea breeze, band playing in the corner allow a pretense
of other, younger lives. Tomorrow we’ll board planes
and head home. The black tables turn over again.
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Last edited by PClem; 04-24-2010 at 10:27 PM.
Pclem:
Nice job on the collaboration. I enjoyed the images of the white-washed, overexposed ocean.
Your advice poem is very funny!
Danielle
Thanks, Danielle! Now on to something where I don't have to worry about sizing pics! Damn photographs and Internet thingies!
The Elephant
I want to own the elephant
in the living room, want to see
with believing eyes,
run my hands over its tough hide,
paint the toes in neon colors,
crawl underneath, tickle its belly,
then swing from the nose,
yank the tail, jump on its back
for a ride over the furniture and crash
the china cabinet. It’s been living
here so long the place smells
bad enough to knock a buzzard
off a shit wagon. I’m tired
of holding my nose,
ignoring it, tiptoeing around.
Laurie
Of this last lot, PClem's Advice is delightful reading. Of the exchanges, I liked III best. And The Elephant, starting as a cheerful romp, seems to have an interesting dark note towards the end.
Fun thread / Dunc
Laurie, the Elephant poem was a hoot. Lots of symbollic possibility in it. The close is uber cool:
It’s been living
here so long the place smells
bad enough to knock a buzzard
off a shit wagon. I’m tired
of holding my nose,
ignoring it, tiptoeing around.
Laurie,
Two weeeks since I was here! Eeeeek!
So much greater the pleasure of encountering the elephant in your living-room! and receive bizarre advice I luckily don't need, on raising children! :-)
Beatles/Beetles thrown in is a bonus --
You are having a NaPo to remember.
Sorella
Hi Laurie: Finally commenting although I've been reading along. I love Swaybacked With Dreams and Exploding Solitude, because that is a hellava title! Very energetic and good suggestions too. The poem lives up to the title. More useful advice in PClem’s Advice to Women for Raising Children. A humour there I like, as well as the imagery. The Elephant is amazing. What a great turn on that expression.
You have a very strong thread happening. Great reading.
Vicky
moderator
Good morning! Great to see the photos that inspired the poem. You (and Hydro) did a great job pulling interesting details and compelling imagery from them. Lovely to see who did what and I'll confess to some surprises over who wrote what which is cool....some I guessed correctly, some not.
"Elephant" has an interesting sinister twist at the end and that gives it a great deal of depth and nuance. You are still swinging for the fences and it shows! Good job!
...our words... come from obsessions we must submit to....~~~~~Richard Hugo