8.21.11 how to strangers be together: collaborative generating #14

bedazzled blood I came through

the virgin you to break

queer fields we peel

and peel between us

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to repent one page flesh

is telegraph still your face

published because he was beast

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won’t name him blank passage

until both of us please history my body

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we stars in our hair in view of the one sin

theft a lit wick I

left the only appropriate apology

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my name scratched red

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(made from the words of Carol Gomez, Serena W. Lin, Hari Malagayo Alluri, Rachelle Cruz, Jai Arun Ravine, Todd Wellman, Melissa Morrow, Evangeline Ganaden & Tamiko Beyer)

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Promptings for your writings:

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Now I am safe in the deep V/
of a weekday.” – from Deborah Miranda’s National Poetry Month Cento (& if you don’t what a cento is, it’s
a poetic form made up of lines from poems by other poets:-)


*

from Sharon Bridgforth’s “Delta Dandi”: Sharon Bridgforth – Delta Dandi clip

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Das Racist – Chicken and Meat:


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Wood, Fire, Paper, Cranes. Three Elements >>

Thomas Matsuda: “Purification” –

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Where to we go to hide? – Carol Gomez

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the perfect splitting open of a longan shell
is controlled pressure smoothe twist all leap of faith
– calabaw proverb (via Hari Malagayo Alluri)

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Just watched it and it reminds me of our poetic process in art form…. – via Carol Gomez

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How far have i traveled to get beyond these inches? – Serena W. Lin

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An excerpt from a Poetry Society of America Interview with Wanda Coleman:

When you consider your own “tradition,” do you think primarily of American poets?

No. My “tradition” (or psyche) is split [I prefer the expression “shattered”]. My “tradition” is a complex mishmosh of two basic traditions: 1) the best of Western Civilization, as taught in the Los Angeles school system of the 50s and 60s, Sappho and beyond. 2) the Afro-American blues/jazz musical tradition.

What is American about American Poetry?
The unique cauldron of Protestantism and Racism in which it is defined and from which it takes shape.

An except from Jericho Brown’s response to Wanda Coleman’s interview, ten years later:

How nice it would be to show just how male I am to someone else in this empty room tonight, but I’m much too busy shaking my head and muttering, “Wanda Coleman.” I should be pulling someone closer to me, but tonight I’m getting in my bed alone. Tomorrow, I’ll rise early and go to the gym where I bang my body against itself in a vain attempt to transform it into something someone wants to touch.”

(via Rachelle Cruz)

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The strangeness of our insides
They will never know.
-Margaret Rhee, from the poem “The Flannery I Know” (via Jai Arun Ravine)

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We tumbled to the bath mat.” — Roger Weingarten (via Todd Wellman)

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(sequential imaging, lyrics, and music)


The Polyphonic Spree, “Running Away” (via Melissa Morrow)

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For almost a month I lived at this rhythm: the night prostrate and the day letting myself be carried across Vienna by sleep and the tramway. – Marjane Satrapi, “Persepolis” (via Evangeline Ganaden)

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 (via Tamiko Beyer)

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& some extra prompts via Meiver de la Cruz (& the Carol she’s talking about is Carol Gomez – 🙂

Querida amiga,
…thinking about labor and the phrases below replay in my thoughts as I work, everyday. They’ve become inspiring meditations that remind me of Mo, Carol, Nisha and of you, Ching-In – as I work:

“La revolución es cultural”
-heard anew in July 2011 from the lips of “Slow” Miguel Martínez, of Colombia’s ChocQuibTown. A link worth enjoying:



“Process is dope”
-inspired by Carol and Monique’s amazing work.

“Dance is labor and love”
-inspired by the body’s reliable joy when dancing, even with aches and pains.

“Work dignifies you”
-Chile, 2003. Shared by a hard working musician, friend.

These phrases are all about the work we do, and help me through. I hope they encourage you too. Let’s work together again soon.



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8 Responses to “8.21.11 how to strangers be together: collaborative generating #14”

  1. hari malagayo alluri Says:

    bodega philosophy

    in all the barrios and pretentious towns
    i come from, this dancing inside
    la maquina de guerra is a form of labour
    suited to the well-heeled and chappal-clad
    alike. public school carcinogens continue to breath
    me despite their best efforts. by sleep,
    the best diving board into my own heart
    or la carreterra. from this angle
    a ponytailed creole y un bearded white dude appear
    to be breaking fast together
    in the middle of ramzan, my coffee
    getting hotter. with the august light,
    my blinking gave me a stop-motion
    sunrise. all the photos in the world can’t fix
    me despite their best efforts. by rote,
    the best diving board into my own heart.

    cipher: das racist, the polyphonic spree, marjane satrapi, evangeline, melissa, meiver de la cruz, carol, ching-in, margaret rhee, serena, ilana yahav, deborah miranda, jai

    prompt: “the next one has to be completely unwieldy, untamed, unrelenting” – anonymous

  2. hari malagayo alluri Says:

    apologies! forgot to name chocquibtown as a major part of the cipher…

  3. Monica Hand Says:

    Today, Michele and I talk about filling the empty. If the poems, the food, the sex don’t, what will fill the empty? I tell Michele that Ira told me, poems will not make me feel loved. Michele says we have to journey inside.

    Prompt – What would the journey towards filling the empty look like?

  4. toddw Says:

    For almost a month I lived at this rhythm: the night prostrate and the day letting myself be carried across Vienna by sleep and the tramway. – Marjane Satrapi, “Persepolis” (via Evangeline Ganaden)
    —————————————————————————-

    I would like to write to you about the town I live in, but the name escapes. So do other names, too. I can’t seem to recall the high school principal’s name (yes, one high school). I think the mayor’s name was Jess. Maybe Jeff, though. I would like to write to you about what color the trees turned (maybe there were many), but I can’t remember the branches or the shade. I would like to write to you about the way the sky looked, the sounds the cars spun up from the gravel roads, and how my aunt or great aunt or uncle’s blue-ribbon pie tasted. But I can’t seem to recall anything but the sound of fireworks above this different city’s water, and then the sirens asking why.

  5. caroljg Says:

    fill the empty inside with grains of sand cascading into beautiful images
    fluid constantly, morphing from city to ocean waves,
    peak and fall, colliding, glistening with sweat, energy dispersed
    warm, steaming in an attempt to transform into something
    someone would want to touch
    feel the body’s reliable joy when dancing as you

    “cease the scratching of your name, droplets of bright blood red drip
    from nails ripping out the strangeness of our insides
    which all sleep, coffee in the world, banging of body against itself can’t fix”

    for almost a month I lived in this rhythm
    now i am safe in the deep embrace of a weekday.

    Inspired by: monica, illana lahau (sand art), hari, margaret rhee (via Jai arun ravine), melissa morrow, meiver, marjane satrapi via evangeline ganaden, ching in, deborah miranda, jeremy, jericho brown > wanda coleman via rachelle cruz

    Prompt:
    “…it’s a blanket visa or something like that”
    ” oh, good enough to keep you warm with in Ohio winter :)”
    ….aunty C & nephew J silly chatting on fb today

  6. Racruzzo Says:

    Dear,

    I know. To repent is split. A cauldron of weekday banged-bodies. La maquina is a complex mishmash of two basic traditions: 1.) Fill the empty. I would like to write you about the longan shells. There were too many sirens. In the middle of ramzan, the blue-ribbon pie, a siren. See. 2.) [I prefer the expression “shattered] And help me through. Process is. Dope-Psyche. My “tradition” is the tramway to siren you. I would like to write about

    Let’s work together soon.

    -words from Wanda Coleman, Jericho Brown, Todd W., Hari, Carol, Ching-In Chen, Monica Hand, Meiver de la Cruz, Marjane Satrapi, Evangeline Ganaden.

    Prompt:
    “It’s time to reinstate the rose
    and return the world to poetry;
    the language that governs the heart
    at long last needs relearning.”-Roger Sedarat, “Reinstatement of the Rose”

  7. serena w. lin Says:

    How angry I am
    my insides
    crystal I want to shatter

    How brilliant your process
    my work
    together unbroken

    How fallen
    the joy of dancing
    the tether one blink

    The strangeness of our insides
    They will never know.
    -Margaret Rhee, from the poem “The Flannery I Know” (via Jai Arun Ravine)

    thanks to: ching-in, hari, evangeline, melissa, rachelle, todd, carol, ching-in

    prompt: “i never was pure…” suheir hammad

  8. Mel Says:

    Stranger : How To :: Cento : Be Together

    won’t we lick the wit thief
    in a faith leap
    in dream certainty
    deep V scratched red
    middle passage made
    blank name
    my name space
    we race is him
    face saved
    check weekday
    components
    she perfectly made
    for we him she
    perfectly made made
    gap into fall gap
    mind gap
    mind bridge
    watch bridge
    gap bridge
    island mind
    why put me into a coffin
    don’t even get paid
    fuega we got
    smooth pressure
    twist controlled
    victorious fist full
    of sand now a
    triumphant man
    by the sea
    you callin’
    stars in her hair
    the friend you forgot
    to send home
    you and I
    are open wide
    wait up for me
    night reflecting desire
    outshines them all
    to get along
    be open wide
    decide to be
    delighted today
    in life
    feel so excited
    when you let it go
    it’s true de donde vengo yo
    y si tengo oro en mi cuello
    to be breaking
    fast together
    believe me
    maquina de guerra
    hanging over my bed
    programmed to destroy
    robots, evil natured
    to fight them, be strong
    you work, stop motion
    blinking sunrise
    critico que a mi y lo critico yo
    process is dope
    dignifies invisibilidad
    what will fill the empty
    lots of vitamins
    mucho corrupcion
    it’d be tragic
    if those robots win
    the poems, the food, the sex
    a lightbulb—you can beat them
    ya quise hablar pero todo hablar mucho mejor

    (with a little help from my friends: Ching-In Chen; Carol Gomez; Serena W. Lin; Hari Malagayo Alluri; Rachelle Cruz; Jai Arun Ravine; Todd Wellman; Evangeline Ganaden; Tamiko Beyer; George R. R. Martin; Deborah Miranda (’s National Poetry Month Cento); Sharon Bridgforth(‘s “Delta Dandi”); Das Racist (“Chicken and Meat”); Calabaw proverb (via Hari Malagayo Alluri); Marjane Satrapi (“Persepolis” via Evangeline Ganaden); “Stars—Calendar Girl (Typography)” (via Tamiko Beyer); ChocQuibTown (“De Donde Vengo Yo”); hard working musician friend;
    Monica Hand; The Flaming Lips (“Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots Part 1”); Meiver de la Cruz; Polyphonic Spree (“Running Away”); Margaret Rhee; Ilana Yahav; Deborah Miranda; U2)

    ***********************************

    Prompt: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5FwlpHk9LgY&feature=related

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