HOW VISUAL POETRY WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE AND MAKE YOU A SNAPPY DRESSER

Dani Spinosa, Michael Sikkema and me made a VIDEO about

 ****HOW VISUAL POETRY WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE AND MAKE YOU A SNAPPY DRESSER****






Here's a link to the resources and images referred to.


No Cabin Fever was involved in the making of this video.

WRITING PROMPT #8 THE DOORS AND PORCHES OF AAAAHHHH

Brian Guan: Age Gets Afraid, a response to Prompt #7

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There is(It’s[Age(Gets[Afraid(Wor[Maybe something]ens)to sleep]worse)is showing]nothing)pain













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Writing Prompt #7: After bpNichol

Writing Prompt #6 Writing from Graphic Scores

Ashley Deng: "A Sombre Respite" (after Writing Prompts 1 & 2, loosely.)

rest, dear heart, as you pound like the rain;

a gentle tap-tap-tap that crescendos into a downpour and floods with world with anxious murmurs

breathe, o lungs, and blow air into speech;

let words borrow song in sweet melodies, and stretch affirmations from quiet, humming tones

;

search and savour the sweetness hidden in bleak-heavy air,

through ash and melancholy and bile and phlegm and blood--

(what tiny shell you have there, holding safe your precious script of life)

--busy restless hands with creation and repair,

through word and song and line and colour and love

(how small can one be to change the world?)

Noah Farberman: After ENCOUNTER (Writing Prompt #4)

Jacques Flechemuller­­ ENCOUNTER, 2016 oil and wood panel 18.5×22″

“You asked that the corgi be big.” The red-haired boy whispered to the one in the front.
The one in the front hid his afraid by focusing on his knees, which were widely known to shake when fear overcame him, the leader. “My Knees are not shaking, Pepper.”
“I… Yes sir they are not. Is there a problem with the corgi?” the red-haired boy was only slightly savvy to the knowledge that the leader and the dog would be evenly matched. “I fetched it myself and vetted strictly according to your… well written list.”
“A list I can see you followed well, Pepper. Why do you think, then, that I would have any problem with the… largeness of the corgi?”
“Not necessarily a problem with its largeness—”
“Then with what, Pepper?”
Pepper was not the red-haired boy’s name. He and the brunette boy to his right had switched names as a prank three days earlier. The prank had gone un-laughed and thus the gag seemed to lose its value. “I am not Pepper. Pepper is Garth. I am Garth and Garth is Pepper. I am not Pepper. Do not yell at me.”
“Dude, come on!” Pepper Pepper, who always committed to the bit, was pissed.
“Why would I care about the dog if you had followed my specifications?” The Leader was not ignorant but actually ignoring the two buffoons in order to clear his name of fear. While the two chattered about laughs they failed to get, the leader became further and further aware of the one good eye from the long-haired boy in the back, watching his knee while the other eye stared at a coincidental fox not far off to the left.
“I need you to make your accusation clear.” The leader demanded.
“No accusation, sir” Pepper Pepper answered.
“Was it you who retrieved the corgi?” sir leader attacked.
“Not technically, sir, but the initial question was asked to Pepper and I am Pepper.”
“You, then, why did you inquire as to whether or not this dog was appropriate if you had followed my list perfectly?”
“For a second you looked scared.” They spoke with force from the back of the group. One eye now focused on the face of the leader, the other watches the corgi. “And in my good opinion, I think you are scared.”
“What makes your opinion good?” any of the other three could have asked this question and depending on who asked the intonation changes. But the question still has the same words. So whoever asked the question is irrelevant, especially considering the question was evoked by such a strong voice. The voice of the two-eyed speaker. And that same speaker, with one eye on the person who asked the question and the other very aware of the setting sun, turned on their heels, eyes never moving, and stomped off before dignifying the question with a response .
The leader approached the corgi, whose legs started to shake; the corgi’s legs that is. The leader, mistaking the shaking for fear, reached out to comfort the large and kind animal. Meanwhile Pepper punched Garth. The sound of the ruckus was drowned out as the leader looked into the corgi’s eyes. The slow thumping of the shaking legs lulling him to a tender coma. Soon the corgi had nuzzled him onto its center back and carried him away. Pepper and Garth split up and followed who they both secretly thought was a better leader. One went with the dog, the other with the person with two eyes. The coincidental fox to the left fell behind after spending too much time trying to figure out who asked that question “What makes your opinion good?”

Noah Farberman: The Strange Fed To The Opposites (Writing Prompt #3)

You asked me for the opposite. But you had yet to have ordered. So I thought short and quick. You asked that I be snappy, the last time, and asked that I never forget a command three weeks earlier. I brought out wet bread, soaked in your usual wine, pinot in the noir. And a glass of olive oil, I made sure not to tell you which was which but I think you knew. When the time came for soup I grabbed the empty bowl from the next nearest table and poured the tiny bits of remains directly into your slightly ajar mouth, most of it sticking to your long and well-kempt beard. When the backup waiter, for when times get busy like noon or dinner, tried to drop off your escargot I made sure that he dropped them off with gusto and wit, I fed him lines through a secret mic while struggling to also take the order of a nearby Duke and Duchess, they came fully dressed and would leave the same. Soon enough the dessert was served; the chef’s special: Cream of the Berry on a Fou Fou Tar Tar, but for you it was pre-heated. You didn’t want to pay the check, not yet, there was some business you had to attend to. You reprimanded me for being too prompt, I explained that I was acting snappily as per your discretion and your friend, across from you at the table, explained the difference to me. You asked me instead for the opposite of a cheque so I brought you the exact amount owed to me and even a tip for my time and you pocketed the money. There was still a fire next door and the owner was beginning to consider the prospect of picking up the restaurant and moving it five more feet over to the right when the bell rang signifying one hour, a special time in the restaurant business. I stood on the nearest table, not yours, and, along with my cohorts, sang the one hour song. “It’s been one hour since you’ve arrived. Now please won’t you please get out of our lives.” I then made a point to step down off the table. You asked me not to flip your table over but I refused, seeing as the policy “always follow policies” is above “the customer is your commander”, and flipped your table. It landed on you, something that has never happened before just like you had never sat at the marble table before just like how the restaurant never had marble tables before yesterday. You were not there to listen as a coworker explained the concept of death to me. I look forward to seeing you next week. The Chef’s Special is going to be an open window full of Bird Pies and Fresh Scotch Aged Two Hours. You can order whatever you want and it is on you.