As Timothy Green puts it, “Poetry is everywhere… It happens by accident all the time.” The idea behind his Found Poetry Project is to see what happens when you look for those accidents. Maybe a note on your power bill sounds like a haiku, or a message your drunk friend left sounds like free association. [...]
Posts Tagged ‘art’
If you think a poet might be in it for the love of their own voice, you might be right. Which borrowed “causes” do you find the most offensive for bad writers, politicians, and other public figures to take up?
Have you ever had a moment you wanted to hold on to, keep feeling longer than it could last? What have you tried to do to sustain it?
The text for this installment is taken from a poem in a series I am writing about (or from) pets. What do you think about the relationship between creation and death? Does an awareness of death drive artists to create more urgent, more honest work?
You might already read Joey Comeau and Emily Horne’s webcomic, A Softer World. This is my little tribute to their work. Did you ever use a darkroom to develop photos? If I could wave a wand I might bring darkrooms back.
I want us to make something that will never last
by Somerled on December 20, 2008 at 11:53 amI want us to make something that will never last. I want to break onto a rooftop with a shovel and leave a picture in the snow. Only a few executives in the buildings still taller will see it; they will wonder about it, and by next snowfall it will be gone. I want five [...]
When I finally found my camera it was back at my table at the café, exactly where I had left it to pay. How did you know I would come back? Perhaps you returned every day, set the camera down and watched. It is such a crowded café. I suppose the owner must have been [...]
I want to meet you without ever planning
by Somerled on August 17, 2008 at 2:09 pmI want to meet you without ever planning to meet, sit next to you on the subway and get off at the wrong stop. We’ll change our clothes, buy five dollar outfits and chase cats through alleys, steal the cameras of tourists to take pictures of graffiti, follow them back to their hotels to give [...]
Have you ever felt like nothing was allowed to be new or fresh or wonderful? Like any attempt at sincerity or originality is seen through the post-modern glasses of irony, reference, and so on?