I've had approximately one jillion conversations about found poetry with approximately everyone I know since the Palimpsests show. Redactive poetry, or humenent poetry, has been a favorite method of writing since I learned about it in college (from my professor, the lovely and talented Matt Roth. Buy his book.) We set up a station at the reception for people to tear out a page from a wrecked book and find a poem from it. If they left it in my Superhero lunchbox (thanks for that birthday gift when I was twelve, Rachel Laribee), the poem would then be in the running to be included in the internet-publication of the larger Palimpsests art show. (I will confess to you, here on the internet, that this interactive bit was a blatant ploy to take attention off myself at the reception. I'm not sure if you've ever been the artist at her own art opening, but it is SHOCKINGLY UNCOMFORTABLE. And this was a great distraction from me and my questionable new haircut.)
We got some GEMS at the Palimpsests opening, and since, I have continued reaping poems from any willing party in my path. I set up a station at the coffee bar here, passed out pages at backyard wine and cigar parties, and took my lunchbox on family vacation with 22 extended family members. (Guys. A condo of Laribees is a sight to behold.) Each time I have conducted this experiment I have been delighted by the results.
This project continues to develop. I have hatched a plan to collect a book of poems from the far corners of the nation. If you want to participate, send me a note and I will send you a page from a wrecked book. Find a poem, sign your name, send it back. (I'm looking at you, Ben Thorpe, Julia Sanders, Ashleigh Hill and Jordan Windholz and Juli Lindsey.)
Pardon me. I need to go buy a scanner.
Pardon me. I need to go buy a scanner.
