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Desmond, I've never tried writing through a poem. It may help my writers block. Kasper, yes, I've always thought that nothing in poetry can be totally nonsense, or meaningless as i prefer to call it. The mind does indeed shape the text into meanings relevant to the reader. The only measure of a good poem to me is how well a poem does this. The only "text" I can't do this with is 'Stawberry Fields Forever'. On Thu, 5 Nov 2009 11:19:04 +0200, kasper salonen <[log in to unmask]> wrote: >haha, pretty awesome. nonsense at its most poetic, and really nothing is >absolute nonsense in poetry because the mind shapes it in spite of itself. > >KS > >2009/11/5 Desmond Swords <[log in to unmask]> > >> This Is But Our Quota (Part V) >> >> 'I' am the back-arched >> leading a little from the lip, >> >> a scenario arrived at via the possible >> scenarios arrived at, in cartoon bubbles, >> >> >> blaked warm lines strapped in bulbs >> here and there, not hard to sell, or win >> >> proclaim from the frozen backside; angels >> >> still in situ, about to sail, either shoulder >> ebbing with ill-informed cartoon bulbs, >> >> or bubbling within against my own bones. >> >> >> This Is But Our Quota (Part IV) >> >> ill-informed, but at least formal in dress, >> on the day a June dress getting longer >> >> and longer and nothing imminently there >> harmful or prescient, sugar too another >> >> multitude of aphoristic flex, stretched >> in order to get the palimpsest dose >> >> of in Roman aphorisms with hues of romance >> awash in the poem dark anger, trying to get >> >> participants some all-wear out of the p’s I >> donned within when poor little criminals, >> >> lyrically able, at the bottom of our Xmas card >> list on the precipice this nomenclature >> >> sitting here (in front of you) the prophetic >> neckline island tying not to notice, but a tune >> >> around a simple houseplant pointing finger >> glove box far down her blouse, you are aphids >> >> descent-seat none appreciate but the scop >> down song off her shoulder, totally, totally >> >> you obverse thin walk, long drive objective >> to write our name on your behalf, correspond >> >> dispel an unkind rumour of who isn’t in, or out >> to romance ther spirited beast, wild within >> >> where you need to go to join the required dots >> laboriously put together, assembled you are 'I' >> >> inversional ooking through the wrong colour >> in a right way, packing cheeky smiles in eyes >> >> your l is all on the wing of flight for, far out >> they’re your jewels, they’re where I left them >> >> there. >> >> Thanks very much, a great piece for making Write-Through with; which is a >> superior-flarf which avant-gardists would say: >> >> 'Hey, cool, that's free exchange, done because of a deep professional love >> for language in all its guises, straight or non-main, MS and NMS, both out >> tribes tied by one bore - you who is 'I'. >>