Prompt #2 – Abstract

Prompt #2 submissions are due by 6/30/12.

We had a few issues with the first submissions. Please review the submission guidelines dearest cahoodaliers before hitting your send button. We don’t want to have to email you back that you’ve been declined over some silly technicality nonsense.

Quick note – Prompt #1 submissions will be taken until June 9th, 2012. If It’s before that date, please also check out this prompt and send us your best self portrait.

Prompt #2 is all about the abstract. We could tell you what this means, but why don’t you tell us, in the form of a poem?

Okay, we’re not that mean. Here are some brilliant examples, and then you’re on your own:

it seems sometimes as if you were only breathing
              and everything happened around you
because when you disappeared in the wings nothing was there
              but the motion of some extraordinary happening I hadn’t understood
the superb arc of a question, of a decision about death

                    because you are beautiful you are hunted
                                 and with the courage of a vase
                                                 you refuse to become a deer or a tree
                               and the world holds its breath
                                                 to see if you are there, and safe

                                                                                             are you?

Frank O’Hara – Ode to Tanaquil LeClercq

i have three eyes for you
and not one of them
is evil

i’m going down to you
like a plane
the ground
yet i am lifted
as stories in
the soil
when all the water

dried up

The Atlantic – Georgia

At one time your touches were clothing enough.
Within these trees now I am different.
Now I wear the woods.

I lower a headdress of bent sticks and secure it.
I strap to myself a breastplate of clawed, roped bark.
I fit the broad leaves of sugar maples
to my hands, like mittens of blood.

Now when I say ‘come,’
and you enter the woods,
hunting some creature like the woman I was,
I surround you.

Louise Erdrich – The Woods

When the motorboat man asked me to love him
I whispered precipice
the word for the no-more-boyfriend feeling
because precipice contains ice (practically twice)
because I wanted teetering—
What? he said
His ears from the engines—so hard of hearing—his hands always
  so hot

Darcie Dennigan – High and Bright and Fine and Ice

                                                                                                               The beach seems used up this morning.
It’s like that  after an overripeSaturday: mesh trash cans full with half eaten watermelon,
                                               beer cans, gum wrappers  &coffee cups.

                                                                        I like it like this:   the morning after
                                    used &adored.       Like a bed after lOve:
          scraps of      what was
                                                             important,    pieces of
                                                      & it lets itself   be played with:

Joan Cusack Handler – The Only God


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