collaborative american sentences
November 22, 2007
Just when you thought I was over writing American Sentences — think again! Glad and I spent a couple of days writing a number of them together.
Our process was to work through e-mail and each take turns completing sentences the other person started. Take a look at what we came up with:
When I said, ‘a wing and a prayer,’ I meant something else entirely.
Opt for the comfortable shoes so that other shoes will feel envy.
In the wrong hands — barren branches, but in the right ones — apple blossoms.
Her hair looked like someone had seriously messed with more than her mind.
Broken legs never stopped anyone from political grandstanding.
Mistletoe is better known for its ability to embarrass.
Eggnog, who came up with such a poor substitute for Baileys and cream?
It was difficult to read him when Babelfish botched the translation.
In the blink of an eye you shed your skin and stand there gleaming at me.
While the radiator knocked and hissed we sang along in b minor.
Like a dog returning to vomit feathers and claws, we seek you out.
The sky had a quilted quality that struggled to embrace nightfall.
I would have written but I stopped to listen to cicadas singing.
Faithless, the birds never consider leaving a forwarding address.
Insects: Too many legs to bother with square-dancing or sack races.
Each time it gets easier to focus on flaws where there aren’t any.
Left to her own devices everything was arranged in odd numbers.
The sound of the morning dove is not at all unlike your leaky heart.
Not a day has gone by that hasn’t ended when I wanted it to.
There’s a moment in every day when letting go is a needful thing.
Bound by nothing but twine it was so much harder to keep promises.
Listen, that sound is not unlike the song of emerging crocuses.
The decorations have gone up again, and yet I long solitude.
my american sentences (rated NC-17)
November 21, 2007
Poetry and I had a spat, but we’ll soon fuck each others’ brains out.
co-po anyone?
November 19, 2007
If anyone wants to write some collaborative American Sentences with me this week, lemme know. Just leave a comment and I’ll come pester you about it.
my american sentences
November 19, 2007
(a book that won’t sell)
A Womb of One’s Own: Leading the Independent Embryonic Life
our american sentences
November 18, 2007
I’m pretty stoked about the humungo American Sentence we all wrote at Read Write Poem over the last few days. It’s worth a gander. (Just scroll to the bottom of this post.)
my american sentences (sunday bonus)
November 18, 2007
Today I will wear my breasts like two prize-winning gourds from the state fair.
my american sentences
November 18, 2007
Parasitic flies bore into crickets as they play their mating song.
(and because I forgot to write one yesterday)
If only I could preserve this moment as an encaustic collage.
my american sentences
November 16, 2007
Two-hundred seventy cubic miles of water in living creatures.
my american sentences
November 15, 2007
A gnat rests on my monitor and flutters its wings now and again.
my american sentences
November 14, 2007
My hair, unwoven, remembers how it feels to be held in a braid.
This is my blog wherein I, Dana Guthrie Martin, write things and stuff. Most of the time, writing and I hobble along in a sort of three-legged race where there is no finish line. (more...)
So with this in mind, my point is that as poets we must write outside of our safety zones because that is where we need to take our readers. — Michael Wells
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beg, borrow, but don't steal
This work is licensed under Creative Commons. If you don’t credit Dana (by using her full name and preferably by linking back to the appropriate post) for however you copy, distribute, transmit or adapt her words, you are being bad. And naughty. And she will have her servant monkeys hunt you down and cut your hands off so you can never copy, distribute, transmit or adapt anyone’s work again and call it your own.
(Unless, of course, you were to use your butt cheeks to manipulate your keyboard with the copying, distributing, transmitting, adapting and whatnot, but Dana fortunately has only met one person whose butt cheeks are that talented. He could play a major third on a piano using nothing but his ass. She kids you not.).
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flick, flick, flick
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i cannot be bought
