PRACTICE, PRACTICE, PRACTICEThis is just practice.I am still very young and there’s something bigger.An open stretch of ocean, a sailboat, the wind.All of it is printed on a little sheet of paperand put into a chrome frame,hung in a store, waiting.An empty field and a herd of gazelle.A stampede on the verge of eruption.A mountain.It’s a ballet. There is so much leaping that even the air gets tired.That is the future.Right now, the buildings hold their breath.The room is dark and there is a finger on the light switch.The whole earth, even, holds its breathAll of the humans gathered on the edge of a tall pillar.An anchor being slowly hoisted up and a man in a ship, thinking of a woman far away.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chair Poetry
Chair by Emilio Ambasz

PRACTICE, PRACTICE, PRACTICE

This is just practice.
I am still very young and there’s something bigger.
An open stretch of ocean, a sailboat, the wind.
All of it is printed on a little sheet of paper
and put into a chrome frame,
hung in a store, waiting.

An empty field and a herd of gazelle.
A stampede on the verge of eruption.
A mountain.
It’s a ballet. There is so much leaping that even the air gets tired.

That is the future.
Right now, the buildings hold their breath.
The room is dark and there is a finger on the light switch.
The whole earth, even, holds its breath
All of the humans gathered on the edge of a tall pillar.

An anchor being slowly hoisted up 
and a man in a ship, thinking of a woman far away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chair Poetry

Chair by Emilio Ambasz

THE TRIPLETS PART IThis one holds a bell and a golden orb.And in his other arm:a scroll with a list of all of the possible flavors of ice creampast present and future.The final item on the list being"extract of human soul"and in his other arm:a roll of hyperabsorbant paper towelsand in his other arm,nothing.He uses this arm to direct the train,but the bridge is out.A chasm of clocks ticking out of synch,and the screech of metaland a terra cotta dove stuck hanging in time.Perfectly centered in the great circular mirror of your face.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
chair poetry
Chair by Boris Sipek

THE TRIPLETS PART I

This one holds a bell and a golden orb.
And in his other arm:
a scroll with a list of all of the possible flavors of ice cream
past present and future.

The final item on the list being
"extract of human soul"

and in his other arm:
a roll of hyperabsorbant paper towels

and in his other arm,
nothing.

He uses this arm to direct the train,
but the bridge is out.

A chasm of clocks ticking out of synch,
and the screech of metal
and a terra cotta dove stuck hanging in time.
Perfectly centered in the great circular mirror of your face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

chair poetry

Chair by Boris Sipek

THE AQUARIUM LIGHTSNow the aquarium lights are turned off.There is nothing but me and a catlounging in the mouth of a friendly whale.The cat has been following me since sunrise.He has grown a thousand limbs andhe has eaten every piece of bacon I have given him.In the whale there are statues and a table.On the table is a jar of chocolates and I unwrap oneand pop it in my mouthand suddenly I am infinitely large;expanding into a soft buttery freeness that encompasses all.A sudden movement as a cat makes a leap from planet to planet.My allergies act upand all of space is sneezing in time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chair Poetry
Chair by Thomas Taviera

THE AQUARIUM LIGHTS

Now the aquarium lights are turned off.
There is nothing but me and a cat
lounging in the mouth 
of a friendly whale.

The cat has been following me since sunrise.
He has grown a thousand limbs and
he has eaten every piece of bacon I have given him.

In the whale there are statues and a table.
On the table is a jar of chocolates and I unwrap one
and pop it in my mouth
and suddenly I am infinitely large;
expanding into a soft buttery freeness that encompasses all.

A sudden movement as a cat makes a leap from planet to planet.
My allergies act up
and all of space is sneezing in time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chair Poetry

Chair by Thomas Taviera

THE GLOOMY AIR, HUMANS, AND THE OCEANWe slip, now, into a dark green glove,leather, filled with a thickointment or lotion.The thick dusty air inside an ancient cathedral in Germany.People pray and sagunder layer upon layer of uncooked bread.A woman sings in a deep voiceand the air takes her words and shakes them around in the raftersbefore letting them fall, bones rattling,to a cheap, vibrant carpet.The thick moist air is an octopus with a toothpaste containerIt squeezes and squeezes.Its breath is minty fresh now,and we are swollen and red.Water balloons filled with soilbeing slung into each other.My body is a stubby finger.A sausagein fat green leather.Far away, the air is fresh and the ground is covered in snow.I can see a shaft of lightand a bird flying out over the oceanand a lightning bolt hovering over a ship.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chair Poetry!
Chair by Piero Fornasetti

THE GLOOMY AIR, HUMANS, AND THE OCEAN

We slip, now, into a dark green glove,
leather, filled with a thick
ointment or lotion.

The thick dusty air inside an ancient cathedral in Germany.
People pray and sag
under layer upon layer of uncooked bread.

A woman sings in a deep voice
and the air takes her words and shakes them around in the rafters
before letting them fall, bones rattling,
to a cheap, vibrant carpet.

The thick moist air is an octopus with a toothpaste container
It squeezes and squeezes.
Its breath is minty fresh now,
and we are swollen and red.
Water balloons filled with soil
being slung into each other.

My body is a stubby finger.
A sausage
in fat green leather.

Far away, the air is fresh and the ground is covered in snow.
I can see a shaft of light
and a bird flying out over the ocean
and a lightning bolt hovering over a ship.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chair Poetry!

Chair by Piero Fornasetti

I made a collage
Flickr

I made a collage

Flickr

4.The fog is moving in closer,A comet withfear of nothing.Smoke, water, milk.The dancing dog of daylight throwsmercy at youwith such vigor.The liquids melt.The fruit trees flourish in windyclimates like this.People yelling.A bicycle.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
five minutes in five minutes #3
art by David Ballam

4.
The fog is moving in closer,
A comet with
fear of nothing.
Smoke, water, milk.

The dancing dog of daylight throws
mercy at you
with such vigor.
The liquids melt.

The fruit trees flourish in windy
climates like this.
People yelling.
A bicycle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

five minutes in five minutes #3

art by David Ballam

3.A Russian piano breaks downthe kiosk door.The tickets forthe five-o-clockFilm about an aquariumturn to dust. The necks of the menand the women.The porcelain truth that watchesyou while youmake sandwiches.but don’t eat them
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
five minutes in five minutes #3
art by hermaphroditic telephones

3.
A Russian piano breaks down
the kiosk door.
The tickets for
the five-o-clock

Film about an aquarium
turn to dust. The 
necks of the men
and the women.

The porcelain truth that watches
you while you
make sandwiches.
but don’t eat them

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

five minutes in five minutes #3

art by hermaphroditic telephones

A WINDOW, A PORTRAIT, A FLYThe earth has a rigid back and a hood like a cobraIn the kitchen, a fly is buzzing.It never stops its terrible stream of inanities.They pour from its wide maw and it coversthe whole house in wads and wads of small talk,with the texture of mucus and glue and a horse is stomping its feet andsinking to the bottom.There is one rectangle of light and through it,you can see hundreds of tics but it is worth the risk.You take a hammer to it and such immense greenerycarries you up and into the armsof some divine bears.Large bears with small plates of pastries,very civilly discussing he new nuclear reactor.Their various opinions circle outwards and away inswirls of paisley and floral patterns.A claw-foot tub with a nice blue lady.A portraitlit from above:the lips turn up, to the light,but the eyes are facing the ground.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am writing Chair Poems again.
Chair by Rudi Bordoni

A WINDOW, A PORTRAIT, A FLY

The earth has a rigid back and a hood like a cobra
In the kitchen, a fly is buzzing.
It never stops its terrible stream of inanities.
They pour from its wide maw and it covers
the whole house in wads and wads of small talk,
with the texture of mucus and glue 
and a horse is stomping its feet and
sinking to the bottom.

There is one rectangle of light and through it,
you can see hundreds of tics but it is worth the risk.
You take a hammer to it and such immense greenery
carries you up and into the arms
of some divine bears.
Large bears with small plates of pastries,
very civilly discussing he new nuclear reactor.

Their various opinions circle outwards and away in
swirls of paisley and floral patterns.
A claw-foot tub with a nice blue lady.

A portrait
lit from above:
the lips turn up, to the light,
but the eyes are facing the ground.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I am writing Chair Poems again.

Chair by Rudi Bordoni

2.The puzzle pieces are all in A divine boxcalled wandering.A cat dies onceThen twice and now it is holy.Now everythingyou love is abig tumor onThe global consciousness and nowit is a flow.Flower gardens.Springtime and jazz.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
five minutes in five minutes #3
art by Spencer Jordan Palmer

2.
The puzzle pieces are all in
 A divine box
called wandering.
A cat dies once

Then twice and now it is holy.
Now everything
you love is a
big tumor on

The global consciousness and now
it is a flow.
Flower gardens.
Springtime and jazz.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

five minutes in five minutes #3

art by Spencer Jordan Palmer

SAFFRON AND GREENThe future is inherently colorless andin a cafe two ladies may be talking.What they may be saying: Timeis something that happens not something that moves.Rhythm is not repetition. In naturethere is never repetition. Everything is differentand no color is repeated.Painters are God’s metronomewith their goddamn red and black stripes.These are big conceptsso I will give you a moment to chew on themand a glass of water but the merry-go-aroundis about to startand we will both be flung into the lightsaffron and greenof everlasting oblivion.The Indian sunrise, cloaked in steamis all we can see now and forever,amen.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
art by Raymond Lemestra

SAFFRON AND GREEN

The future is inherently colorless and
in a cafe two ladies may be talking.

What they may be saying: Time
is something that happens 
not something that moves.

Rhythm is not repetition. In nature
there is never repetition. Everything is different
and no color is repeated.
Painters are God’s metronome
with their goddamn red and black stripes.

These are big concepts
so I will give you a moment to chew on them
and a glass of water but the merry-go-around
is about to start
and we will both be flung into the light
saffron and green
of everlasting oblivion.

The Indian sunrise, cloaked in steam
is all we can see now and forever,
amen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

art by Raymond Lemestra

1.Aloe vera brings wisdom thatnever ends. Itkills all otherplant life. OtherAnmals. The blood never stainsanything: theconceirge’sghost is much tooVigilant. The children run roundand round, neverlooking up ordown at the floor.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`
five minutes in five minutes attempt 3
artist unknown :(

1.
Aloe vera brings wisdom that
never ends. It
kills all other
plant life. Other

Anmals. The blood never stains
anything: the
conceirge’s
ghost is much too

Vigilant. The children run round
and round, never
looking up or
down at the floor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

five minutes in five minutes attempt 3

artist unknown :(

unknowmenclature:

if you hold 
me
tight
 in arms made

of the sound of clanging 
metal pipes,

i’ll make sure
to 
ignore the
 body
at the end
 of the hallway;

every time, walking by it, 

I hear the breaths in
between 
lines in
that finger-licking
 orchestra, and shiver.

—
#2 five in five exercise proposed by zjoot

Oh wow, and also unknowmenclature did a five in five and it’s really good! Cool! I love it so much when people do my projects! Yay!

eleanorhazard:

in dream, yr standing on personal
space of blacktop desert that
swallowed the world, and his
nametag says gladly. yr phone
doesn’t work.

stone, off, dark. like bedsheets
you recognize at first glance. why
doesn’t yr phone work.

hold it up to yr ear, this goddamn
shitty dream signal, i swear, and

While I avoid the Internet for almost two weeks out if sheer laziness and just not wanting to do much, other people are writing really amazing stuff like this. Isn’t the world cool? Isn’t Eleanor cool? She and Dalton Day or on top of the game right now. I will go queue up some of my poems when I get feeling back in my mouth and it stops bleeding.
Surrealist Language Event #9!

zjoot:

I’m gonna do another one and maybe this time not have to beg for people to participate I hope!

Since I’m still getting back into the swing of these, I’m going to re-use another technique from when I was doing these last summer. This form made one of the best ones, so let’s hope we can get a repeat performance! 

For this one, everyone sends in five sentences in the following form: I am the/a_{noun phrase}_, _{verb phrase}_ing in the _{noun phrase}_ of you. Then I’ll pseudo-randomly recombine the clauses and make something new out of them!

Example: I am the freshest scuba diver around, doing a bigass backflip in the marmalade of you

SEND THEM TO MY ASKBOX FOR ENDLESS GLORY

This form is inspired by “alt-lit” so maybe try watching a Steve Roggenbuck video, or flipping through your copy of The YOLO Pages for inspiration. And of course, be interesting and surreal and have fun with it!

Results up next Monday or Tuesday depending on how many submissions I have!

I only have one submission for this so far. I’d really like some more please!

ONE MAN’S GRIPPING STORY OF HOW HIS VIDEOGAME ADDICTION ALMOST CAUSED HIS DOGS TO STARVEAlmost everyone just wants to be a martyr in one way or another.They want to have aspects of their livestelevised.I met a vegetarian once.He said he was ok with eating liverHe said that I had put on some weight.Maybe you should go into spacehe saidand, I don’t know, look around,do some push ups, somejumping jacks.Then he put on a rain jacket and stepped inside his giant strawberry.I think I remember reading a poem someone wrote about their motherand their mother was kelp.Now isn’t that an exciting way to live.What I meant to say wasisn’t that an exciting way to grow huge and nearsighted,and use some ancient stained glass windows for glassesand walk around obsessively pulling trees out of the groundgrumbling about weeds.Finally after years of work,your garden is perfect.You empty yourself totally and ascend.Meanwhile in Germany,a flaming dog corpse falls from the skyand ruins a business luncheon with its divinity.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Clickbait
art by Xavier Mascaro

ONE MAN’S GRIPPING STORY OF HOW HIS VIDEOGAME ADDICTION ALMOST CAUSED HIS DOGS TO STARVE

Almost everyone just wants to be a martyr 
in one way or another.
They want to have aspects of their lives
televised.

I met a vegetarian once.
He said he was ok with eating liver
He said that I had put on some weight.
Maybe you should go into space
he said
and, I don’t know, look around,
do some push ups, some
jumping jacks.

Then he put on a rain jacket and stepped inside his giant strawberry.

I think I remember reading a poem someone wrote about their mother
and their mother was kelp.
Now isn’t that an exciting way to live.

What I meant to say was
isn’t that an exciting way to 
grow huge and nearsighted,
and use some ancient stained glass windows for glasses
and walk around obsessively pulling trees out of the ground
grumbling about weeds.

Finally after years of work,
your garden is perfect.
You empty yourself totally and ascend.

Meanwhile in Germany,
a flaming dog corpse falls from the sky
and ruins a business luncheon with its divinity.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Clickbait

art by Xavier Mascaro