Those poems were working on me, and now they're gone. . . I think I will try to write them from memory one of these mornings . . . ah, now there's an interesting project. One of us posts a poem. The other person reads it for a few days, off and on, and then the poem is removed and the non-author has to try to recreate it from memory. After 10 or so such efforts, we can post the poems side by side and see if they're brothers.
As for your idea about using chance methods to ghostwrite each other's poems, I think that's an interesting proposition. Similar, actually, to how D.H. Lawrence wrote poems. Have you heard this? He'd get an idea, write a quick draft. Then he'd set the poem aside and, in lieu of revision, write the poem from memory, out of the halo or aura or general leftover mood the poem left in him. In some cases he'd do this dozens of times. What we actually should do is post one poem, write a ghost-version, then have the original poem swoop back in and write a ghost-version of the ghost-version, and so on. Like sending a whispered phrase around a circle of people, to see how it comes back; most likely totally distorted.
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Those poems were working on me, and now they're gone. . . I think I will try to write them from memory one of these mornings . . . ah, now there's an interesting project. One of us posts a poem. The other person reads it for a few days, off and on, and then the poem is removed and the non-author has to try to recreate it from memory. After 10 or so such efforts, we can post the poems side by side and see if they're brothers.
A poem:
'The Moral Party of Two'
Zygmut Bauman calls it. Deux,
pas de dew--as delicate
and teleportable, appearing in
and out of unison each
morning as if yards were effortless
but interchangeable. After nerved
action, what is there? I love,
I make a fear of most stories.
Years--even you can bear to
discount, days, because always
the kitchen window, breathes, we're,
we are, together, meditative
through the nostril not the nose.
This is supposed to be in couplets.
As for your idea about using chance methods to ghostwrite each other's poems, I think that's an interesting proposition. Similar, actually, to how D.H. Lawrence wrote poems. Have you heard this? He'd get an idea, write a quick draft. Then he'd set the poem aside and, in lieu of revision, write the poem from memory, out of the halo or aura or general leftover mood the poem left in him. In some cases he'd do this dozens of times. What we actually should do is post one poem, write a ghost-version, then have the original poem swoop back in and write a ghost-version of the ghost-version, and so on. Like sending a whispered phrase around a circle of people, to see how it comes back; most likely totally distorted.
This will be our next project. To be titled...?
"Short Voyage Thru The Dreamlife of Ulysses Ellipses Odysseus" . or something less willful as that
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