Today is one of those days where the hours available don't match the workload. I have to rework the running orders for OLD and for Savage Breast's turn at Columbia's Manifest Arts Festival. I also need to finish up a research paper on theatre in Northern Ireland and prep for tonight's first RoboWriters meeting at The Uptown Writer's Space. I also need to send off a Mother's Day card. I spoke to my mother yesterday. She doesn't have a phone in her room, so whenever my younger brother visits at the nursing home, he calls. She genuinely sounds fine. She likes her room and the food. Go figure.
Last night was another WNEP writer's session for the upcoming Dada show. It was a ton of fun. Some very creative, and slightly insane, people.
Here's a poem I've been working on that we didn't get a chance to read. Most of the material I've brought in so far have been created through mishing and mashing existing texts - cutting and pasting and churning words through translation programs. A very technological approach. I've decided to try a series of more organic poems. The following was originally handwritten while sitting and eating lunch - thus the imagery.
(Mind you, Dada is best if read out loud. So, if no one's around, go for it. If there are people around, even better. An authentic German accent helps...)
GUARDIAN THROAT
by Dada mondo yippeeeeeee
My throat enables the litter of previous bovine to tackle the up of a flip (AHEM)
My throat grabs at the words leaking from my lips. They slip from it's grasp like eels of wet spaghetti.
The
words
drop
to
the
floor.
They splat in small dollops and are eaten by mice who are eaten by cats who die from holes bore into the corners of their stomachs.
My words have edges. They cause paper cuts. My words are deadly. Deadlier than I give them credit to charge what they like at the local five and dime-is-on-our-side
Words that when strained through the rotting jail cell of my teeth include, but are not limited to;
"arugula"
"topiary"
"moist"
and "minuscule."
"Buttocks" used to be problematic.
I can now release it into the wild without thought of provocation or consequence.
Please.
Heed my advice.
Teach your cats well.
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