I had a distinct head with sensory organs on it.
into every shadow stained alley

midnight dreams of my desire to possess you
spew heart palpitations of a blood red moonlight

Back when I was a gastropod
She answered the phone for six months or so

your shadow encircles me while fleeing, it is
cut across the sea like a razor to the wrist

 

Scott and I couldn't seem to get our desired theme or "reunion" to emerge from the submissions we received. We only received about seventy-five submissions this go-around, so it was hardly like we could reject just because the poem or short-story wasn't theme-friendly.  So, I had this bright idea that we could slice off two-three "not really needed" lines from our poets and then splice those lines together to create a new poem.  Hence, the rejected lines are reunionized and viola--this stupid theme is off the ground. 

I decided to pick on the poets for this one simply because I felt like it.  I also felt like seeing how the picked on poets would respond. As I am still trying to figure out what kind of writing, if any, I should continue with, I like to play games with would-be comrades.  Would they be game?  Would they fight it?  Pull out?  Laugh?  Whine?  A little bit of everything happened, but I won't say who said what and blah blah blah.  

Having grown attached to my ugly spliced baby, I can't really judge the beauty of this Frankenpoem that we have created.  I don't think it would survive a creative writing workshop, especially if everyone in the workshop were drinking Guinness. 

Since I hate participating in creative writing workshops only slightly less than leading creative writing workshops, I will leave the group with some questions for discussion while I make a break for the door:  Do the lines make the poem great or does the overall meaning?  What lines can you pull from your work and get-by without?  What does it mean to "get-by"?  Isn't great poetry the acceptance of getting-by--- on fumes, so to speak. 
 

  --Angie