exquisite corpse poem

the surrealists had an artgame called the exquisite corpse where one person would draw a picture and then fold the top of the paper down so it was mostly hidden except the bottom lines peaking out from under the fold. Then the picture gets passed to the next person who adds onto it, folds the paper down again and then passes it on. After the paper is folded to the end, you unfold it to reveal a collective drawing… the reveal is always exciting as a form emerges that is no one persons conception but something totally unique. At Monday Art Group we take this principle and apply it to poetry, here is one of our latest exquisite corpse poem:

Monday Art Group, May 20, 2013
exquisite corpse poem (nancy edit)

We are too busy making roses

When the pain becomes political
when the whale sings
sings to the world

Word is           we need a new mayor
Word is a        grimace on the street
can’t think       of anything      right now     this
birdhouse full of hornets
We are too busy searching for a clue
for something extraordinary
and pleasing  to the myopic eye.

We are too busy        we bury our visions
Visions    ok    beautiful


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