These are "word-at-a-time poems." One person writes a word, then the paper is passed to the partner, who writes another word. There should be no communication otherwise. If a poem is written by Jim and Vanessa, it means that Jim wrote the first word. Some are "line-at-a-time."
2012: Vanessa and Jim (Line at a time)
A pebble falls
plink, plink, plink, plink
unhinged and fragmented
then sinks in an icy pool
of sky reflected
unbroken by the ebbing
cirrus on the backs of taut wind
2009: Jim and Vanessa (line at a time)
Relief
The undertow drawing out
as I zip faster close cover
my tormentors behind me
snaking in corridors
I doze in safety
2009: Jim and Vanessa (line at a time)
A hopeful bench
strains underfoot.
A child strains to reach
skyscraping shadows overhead
the bench knows that reaching for shadows
proves advertising works
2007: This is a word at a time poem I wrote with my friend Kate. I started:
If xxx will show its sight
I will perform nothing.
My hands are wire,
my teeth made of sand.
Forgiveness;
tie me with eternity
Here is a poem I wrote with Montica Pes, each of us telling a word at a time, switching between us. It was all done over email.
With big looks, we guard potentially embarassing novices
From purchasing our tasty delights
Because once a rambunctiious adolescent
Spoiled the Emperor's opalescent eggwhites
By putting his filthy tentacles
In the depths of the stupendous mix
Reaching a flavor surpassed
By the most venerable Epicureans' bag of tricks.
Same thing, this time in person with Beth Ferrill:
What animal withstands the salty kool-aid?
Not I. Not the pigeon of Dunwoody swamp.
Be that shameful? I don't care.
My pet project, spanky, will be the crown-jewel
of Pacific rim holidays. No other endeavor
could nullify spanky's salt-removing abilities.
A nother era of sweet reflection
awaits our winged hero. Behold!
Another:
Dawn creeps slowly, cautiously, across Kenya's plains
awakening herds of gazelles, warming pools and streams
The clouds pink and tremendous, rise when it rains
Bushmen love to shout "stampede!" to end all dreams
One little Ocelot prowls over the grass smushing
collegues, aquaintences, snicker at his saunter
Undaunted Oceie captures his dinner pushing
His meal goes down clean yet others hunt asunder
This one beth started:
What better way to live
than happily acknowledging the events of
the day, easing through both difficult
and charming? Minding your tensions
with an attitude copesetic, to float
around like a fairie casting her spells
of harmony.
This one I started:
His ego absorbed all mine. I still feel holey
and brittle when tested. Nonetheless,
pits are slowly forming scabs covering my
identity. What happens when he tears
across my life again with hooks engaged?
I hope I can remain strong, human.
Jim Starts
Please respond gently to my proposition, I'm scared
Once long dreams of yelling and redness have haunted me
But, recently my outlook has brightened
due to a change in the sky
Clouds race over my psyche, blurring
the memories of nightmares long dreamt.
Winds clear my imagery quickly and fully.
Can you relate to such
a tumultuous mentality?
Jim Davies and Aileen Loy (7/31/2001)
Can I still pry about incidents from dying friends?
Momentary desires flattened my fingers into sly chisels,
crisp at the ends.
And victims of my awkwardness.
Jim Davies and Justin Welborn (early 00s)
Tickles under hidden blankets. Fondle hardly with wanton enthusiasm whenever your fancy is fingered. Cancel my contract engagements, for calendars blanket seasons with wrecklessness. I nuzzle godly digits because paradise ties the patience within the invisible itinerary.
Jim Davies and Bahama Lynch (3/2003)
Wishes dream too when hungry. Slumber dreams wishes when alone. Don't sleep wrecklessly. Peace comes with letting pain giggle. And exhalations change. Nightmares kick. And love snarles.
Jim Davies (3/2003)
Clever are those who invest their love in loyal proximates. And stupid are those who digest the fruits of those who grow toxic dates.
Jim Davies (3/2003)
Tell me two stories this evening. The first about me. And a woman. Make her all hungry and grieving, so that in the next story she'll move in. Word at a time: Jim (starts) with Kate Evans
For life to dig deeply into the bottom,
your garden of lies cannot take precedence.
Give seventeen babies for one prayer.
Birth is essential. Don't attempt contraception,
it scars your soul one effervescent moment,
and then you're gone.
Word at a time: Laura Burns (starts) with Jim Davies (1/2006)
Chomp the Jingle-talk.
Scrape backwards over details.
This game always jives.
This pen always dives.
Tomorrow swings heavenward
while yesterday fiddles away, somehow.