we have so many dimensions

ants brusquely rising in the throat at my budding summer garden

beam gladness. moon drummer galaxy rising out of the marrow

makes us pick up our fingers and skateboard with potential to spark.

all letters fly off in moon cycles of nurturer words.

we have so many dimensions.

Being Carved Out

The blinking cursor
waiting waiting waiting

The nearly blank screen
field of white snow paper

Your words remain there
something blocks from view

Something more essential
(if there is such a thing)
begs my full attention 

It's as if I must close all
other doors pages voices

And let this One work me
however terrifying it may seem

Floating in the pristine sea
the vast body underneath

.

.

.

.

.

.

Awaiting where voices
are Silence Itself

Carvings

 Carvings

1     skateboard spins skyward

2     letters fly off
       frieze in time

3     space ants dark love
       pollinates the silver moon

4     hooded scarecrow rising
       playing a viola
       for the baffled.
 

We are a collaborative remembrance

What?
i can't rest!
I've been dancing a dance of density/ far beyond any rhythm or place unknown
When i start to sweat and tire, i discover what i've found;
the world which is a Woman...earthen / holy / dynamic
her island of nurture, nest and cavern
of sires and brave witches that fly together at dusk
the windy conditions that bring about delight
the cross-pollination of minds
her minds, our minds,  blowing through corridors and Wild open fields
kissing the flowering plants and food rich grains
the grass seeds fused to their ovaries
the tonguelike ligule at the junction of blade and sheath
her body of OVER-RESTED Grassland turned to sand
the lonely deserted Savannah
it's trampling, grazing, salivating, defecating herds ( millions gone )
their dust storm songs pitch clear words into Northern light
a blood pumping remembrance
of co-evolving collaboration; ANIMAL / GRASS / SOIL
the inseparable whole
it's dream is one of saving this World
which may be the most fearsome adventure yet!

thanks for the beautiful collaborative word collages, folks...brought much joy!

spiral and zhoom

friends

swirl

two

symbioses

(for everyone who wants to frolic

connect the pogo stick

with

monkey bars

j’adore.

my budding viola /

baffled cavern,

and

your

dark

Chocolate

instrument, called "Sweetmilk

pitch our

streams and beams into

a fabulous

[source note

Prompt: Hymn of Hymns: Imunuri Carve Out - Ready, Set, Crow...

In this prompt, we create a third derivative poetry wave form. Vortex out!
Spark and sparkle, Carve Out!

Some Imunurian Poets in Portland vortexing out
of a spiral hand zhoom. Try it. August 2012.
Photo thanks to D. Copeland

First, Imunurians post poems.
Second, Imunurians and their friends and interactive poetry reading folk spark off lines from Imunuri posted poems to write new lines and swirl these together with the Imunuri poem lines in an interactive word play. We post two of these such poems here, collaboratively written in Portland on August 11 and 12, 2012.

Third, we will now "carve out" other poems from these latest symbioses. Post your carve- outs here as posts (for Imunuri poets) and comments on this prompt (for everyone who wants to frolic with us).

It's more than carving: we invite you to riff, bounce, sandblast, muse, reveal, reconnect, connect the dots, ride a pogo stick down the road not taken, whatever gives delight. Ready, set, crow...

PS - for extra fun, we have set links to the poems for the lines that came from Imunuri poems so you can have further tinder for your creative kindling!

Labels: carve-out, poem, [poet's moniker]
Extra points to those participating to post other pix

To explore an earlier version of this prompt cycle, sparked by our November 2011 show in Oakland, go here.

Group Collaborative Poem 1 – Bipartisan Café August 11^th, 2012

I’ve got so much life in me, I can feel the earth closing in.

Oh, the TriMet Terror!

Beyond Euclid and his orthogonal existence,

Hold the seed within.

Sea, carry me through change.

Breeze, fill me with your ease of flux.  

Bubbling,

I know me and I won’t go there.

Mile square park, monkey bars, and softball games.

Low pitched and rising in the throat to a sound between laughing and crying and something else.

Love was only amore. Until the baby came, j’adore.

I glance out back / at my budding summer garden / to discover the rain /

Playing a viola / hosting a surprise party / for the baffled world. 

The world, which is a woman, earthen, holy, /dynamic, nurturer, nest, cavern, wholeness. 

Why do ants carry their dead? 

To send them off to the maker above with respect and love.

Pushing myself brusquely out of nite wrappings into jeans. / Out to Sweetmilk’s feeder and Nature’s dark art.

The eyes that sight the surface, /the play of light as it convinces 

The colors that read rightly, even if they are wrong.

To pitch our words into Northern light. 

A hungry night owl bee / Pollinates the silver moon / Milk-weed flower, a galaxy 

I have so many dimensions  

When I wake, discover what I’ve found.

Sugar peas, sweet peas, and runner beans beam gladness.

…and a stamp was created from that quake of bodies bending…

I’ve been dancing a dance of density/Around and around the propensity / Of having to keep and keep and keep / But now I’m giving it away in my sleep 

This is not an island of sires, witches, giants, storms. / This is a place, alone, to wait /

Which may be the most fearsome adventure yet. 

Wisdom’s hands, hips and face / Her hooded scarecrow rising 

Intelligence, a bloodless victory

Far beyond a place unknown, a coffee milkshake and almond steamer are ready.

My mother took us to this cool park where I (seen here) am playing on a stagecoach 

One time I dropped my writing nib, another time a nub of cheese 

Embouchure was for fluting / until I saw my baby nursing. 

I’ve got so much life in me, if I grin / the songs of creation leak out. 

Try to smile, we dare ya. Imunuri Bringing Grins at Taborspace August 2012 (Photo thanks to D. Copeland)

Group Collaborative Poem - Taborspace – August 12^th, 2012

What precedes the start of a story arc? / A place devoid of heat, sound, and motion, /a still space fraught with potential to spark.  

Comfortless in my own skin

Soundly sleep dreams erupting

Swell skateboard spins skyward

My wisdom’s free

Heart drum solo,

As I learn to beat alone.

Follow the ecliptic side to side /with every full swing / as if you pelvis were earth. 

The dawning realizing, IT WAS ONLY A HALLUCINATION.

I stop typing and move out the window/towards stars and caverns, where I can pause and take shape as air bodies.    / Finally, a l l l e t t  e   r   s   f   l    y  o    f        f     

One time I dropped my writing nib, another time a nub of cheese

Just freeze in one place. That’s one way to deal with it. Back up to see if you can escape... 

Frieze in time

Slow.

Reconciliation

Ahead.

Sink and sink

think and think

and sigh and sink.

I have so many dimensions

Moon cycles, circle of life

Turning, everlasting

The window that lives /in the flesh and /pulse of my / energy / is a / torus / of energy / that opens out 

Frames the light / into a design / I’ve never seen before / or since, the sign / of make it nice 

The world, which is a woman, earthen, holy, /dynamic, nurturer, nest, cavern, wholeness
A hungry night owl bee / Pollinates the silver moon / Milk-weed flower, a galaxy

The best things fill S P A C E !

The sky swings its bat to hit out our shooting star.

My mother took us to this cool park where I (seen here) am playing on a stagecoach

Many times you pick up your fingers nibbing them to a nub.

Are we not dark, dark in our marrow, in our quiet… 

Chocolate

Granola

What you see of me depends on who are you

When you meet someone, you never know when you will actually “meet” them…

Four years later: a knock at the door. The children have found their way home, / tall and gaunt as geese 

Well, not the oldest one…he’s gained some weight.

See me say “Hey!” Swallow me whole 

[Picture of drummer with metal tines of a musical instrument, called "Drum Solo - My Icon"]

My wife and I were happy for 20 years, and then we met. 

even Space is full of itself 

Held in my hand

A black galaxy

It flew off,

A swallow

The eyes that sight the surface/ the play of light as it convinces 

Pushing myself brusquely out of nite wrappings into jeans. / Out to Sweetmilk’s feeder and Nature’s dark art. 

to pitch our words into Northern light. 

Are we not light, streams and beams rising out of the marrow, singing hope into the air?

And grows into a fabulous handle bar mustache that everyone wants to wear.

Source material:

Half the lines are from previous Imunuri poems [source noted in brackets]

Half the lines are generated by each person present, sparked by a randomly pulled previous Imunuri poem line.

These poems were spontaneously generated by the thirty+ people who attended two live poetry shows. 

Go, go, make more art!