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Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Lady Aston's BarnStone Salon: Chain Poetry

(This series of posts describes the projects each of seven artists brought to "Lady Aston's BarnStone Salon," held in early February at my home in Charles City, VA. The first of the series was posted Feb. 7, 2011.)

So late Saturday night, we got really drunk, right? And once bottomless wine flows, what do seven crazy artists do with one another around a fireplace on a cold night in February?

Chain Poetry! Woo hoo! BRING IT, YO.

Here's what you do: pass around narrow strips of paper and each person writes 5 words, one below the other (including punctuation, if you want.) Then you fold the paper so only your bottom two words are visible, and pass the paper to the next person. When you receive the paper passed to you, you add just three words. Rinse and repeat. When you get to the bottom of the paper (or fall in the fireplace, whichever comes first), you unfold and read the poems.

Deeeeep. Here's a few of my favorites:
1.
Turtle
slow
shifting
bow
sighing
heaving
bosom
goes
up
and
down
went 
my 
bottom
hurts
and
then
nothing.
Share
my
juices
screaming 
foul
foul
oh
love
here
we
be.

2.
Welcome,
he
said
to
her.
So
he
said
stop
this
madness
stops
here
starts
another
day
of
cheesecake
but
not
the
balm
of
all
healings
here.

3.
Tell
me
once
more
about
me,
less
about
tonight
is
loss
or
more
furtive
than
fertile.
So
fess
up 
missy
down 
mister 
y'all
better
not
tell.
Secrets
hurt
families
the
same
way.

Okay, one more, a short one. We must have run out of booze.

4.
Red
patterns
eastern
swirls
are
stillness.
My
limbs
shorn
massaged
planted
seeds
within
worlds
within
worlds
within.

Yeah. So. That's what we did.




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