We have long had magnetic alphabets on our fridge, but those have only so much entertainment value because we quickly reach the limit of 52 letters [2 alphabets]. When we moved into our new apartment, I bought some magnetic poetry. I enjoy using it, but then I want to preserve my stupid creations for all eternity, which prevents me from raping them for recombination. So I’ve decided to photograph the results of my magnetic maundering. As you can see, it’s all in character: long sentences that take unexpected turns as they tell fantastic stories burbling with unusual conflict.
First effort, early on in September… It was supposed to be “bitter iron cities,” but apparently the basic Magnetic Poetry set doesn’t have cities in it.
we love gorgeous winding road trips
under lazy pink mists
away from those bitter iron forests
& into the easy cool void of death
Second effort, same date of early in September. When you divorce words such as “breast” and “blood” and “wave” from context, you realize that they can all be nouns or verbs.
peach visions breast the
delicate winter waters
Effort from last night. Is it just me, or does everything sound erotically charged with this damn magnetic word game?
we are weak from these
luscious moments & drunk
on beauty together
Another effort from yesterday, probably someone straining desperately to have a rational reaction to a supernatural apparition. I suspect the sordid urges are winning. They usually do. They were originally “bloody urges,” but, combined with “flooding,” that left a menstrual impression that I didn’t want.
will you please elaborate
for your likeness behind me
shines & incubates purple shadows
flooding my will with sordid urges