Mad Libs and writing together
Mad Libs and writing together
a Mad Lib poem (with Diane di Prima), co-authoring and collaborative poetry, form and format, astrological themes of co-dreaming and the dissolution of boundaries, and the Matrix
Do not scroll down yet!
Allow the soft body of your animal to be surprised today ;)
Take some time to choose a word (or short phrase) for each of the following types of language:
A personal item
A body part
A natural object
A natural object
An edible piece of nature
A place
An active verb
A plural noun
A plural noun
An active verb
A plural noun
A plural noun
A verb
A handmade item
A past tense verb
A cultural concept
A virtue
A natural material
A color
A natural formation
An animal
A time of day
A Verb
An endearing adjective
A handmade item
An experience
A past tense verb
A mandmade place
A personal item, large
A sense
A body part
Now… scroll down to plug your words into the poem Mad Lib below.
I’d love to hear some of your most delightful moments in the comments!
BY DIANE DI PRIMA
for Jackson Allen
My friend wears my _______ (personal item) at his ______ (body part)
I give him ____________ (natural object)
He gives me ______ (natural object) & _________ (edible piece of nature)
He comes from a ________ (place) & I meet him
We will _________ (active verb) _______ (plural noun) & ________ (plural noun) together
He ________s (verb) me _________ (handmade item)
Many have _______ (past tense verb) the _________ (cultural concept)
I use for his ___________ (virtue)
__________ (natural material), & _______ (color) ________s (natural formation)
& _________ (animal) the color of ____________ (time of day)
My friend ___________s (verb) ____________ (endearing adjective) as a ___________ (handmade item) on the wind
He backlights my ______________s (experience)
He has ____________ (verb, past tense) _____________ (manmade place) beside my __________ (personal item, large)
I awake in the __________ (a sense) of his __________ (body part) & cannot remember
his name, or my own.
Next Saturday,
and I are co-guiding a poetry workshop at the Lynden Sculpture Garden. Check out the event info here (Brown Deer, Milwaukee area in-person event!). We’re collecting language for a poem that will eventually be carved into the pieces of trunk from a Norway Maple tree that once shaded the labyrinth on the grounds of the sculpture garden.
And so I’ve been thinking a lot about collaborative poetry.
Co-languaging. Co-authorship. Polyvocal poetry. I’m not sure what the best words would be. I am not sure I have many examples in my life of writing with others.
Of course, there’s the cadavre exquis (exquisite corpse) that my writing group would do while sitting in loud bars in my 20s. Or writing in the same theme as other poets to be published in an anthology. Or co-writing my feature film RINGOLEVIO with Marty. But have I truly written with other people in a way where our language became one?
In next weekend’s workshop, the plan is to write Mad Libs poems and one long list poem together — all with the focus on stepping into new selves and healthily grieving our old selves.
We’re writing about ourselves… together.
So: How do we create the systems–or organizing principles–for each of us to feel comfortable to speak up, be ourselves, and to co-make what we want to see in the world?
The poem that will be carved into tree trunk chunks will have to make sense as a whole and in parts. Right now, my vision is to approach co-authoring as play. To be in the same room and contemplate the same ideas and to share language in the mode of games. The magic that happens when one is surprised by the “a noun” plopped into a line — and how little or how much more sense is made in this surprise.
In my Yin Yoga teacher training in Bali, our guru (Guru Ji / Guru Vishnu) said something that struck me: we are all here because two people loved each other. Two people, in their forms, came together to create us.
I am not sure how to connect this to collaborative writing, but I know it’s an important thread in a possibly life-long quest to practice co-authorship in a culture obsessed with personal, individual achievement.
I’m thinking of Saturn and Neptune in Pisces this year. Themes of fluidity, of merging identities, of dissolving boundaries. Themes of mutuality, of mutual aid, of collective language. Themes of “We.” Of understanding that great systemic restoration and care requires collective action. Of all voices speaking as one.
It’s a radical act to speak with others. Writing a poem together is putting into action the thought of tighter-knit communities, of collective power. And especially when the poem opens space for active grief (active hope).
Let’s bring all this high-up language-ing down a bit.
My Friday writing group has a format. At first, the group had a leader (and tbh Michele Kotler is still very much our big-heart, our incredible guide), but after we settled into the format, we became truly democratic. It wasn’t all on Michele to supply the inspiration poem, or for her to show up every time–which became increasingly more difficult after the world started opening up again. We created a matrix of energy between us so that we could share the load as well as share the magic.
We greet each other, share what’s on our minds, and discuss our reactions to current or personal events.
We read a poem one of us loved that week. Oftentimes, writing prompts come to the surface.
We matrix1. I, personally, try to put the most ridiculous word in there for Nicole Callihan to incorporate seamlessly into her poem.
We write for 30 minutes.
We return to share what happened on the page, and each of us reacts verbally or in the chat to the lines and ideas expressed in our first drafts.
This is the format. And we don’t stray, but sometimes we adjust for time. Sometimes, we spend the majority of our two hours talking about a tragedy in the world. Or, we talk about a difficult moment in our partners’ or kids’ lives. And we understand this is holy: to process with our soul-family. To express complexity with others who can hold complexity (one of the main job descriptions of a poet).
At 2 - 3pm Central tomorrow (Sunday, January 28th), our writing group is performing as a part of the annual Woodland Pattern Marathon. And if you’d like to sponsor us, your support goes directly to uplifting the truly incredible poetry book store and non-profit Woodland Pattern.
“Give What You Can” link here.
I was going to write a nice lil wrap up statement about form and coming together… but I don’t want to. I still don’t know what I think yet about this. All I know is that there’s something to creating a shape or a vessel or a form in order for two or more people to create together, and I crave that level of togetherness. To-gather-ness?
XOXO,
KPK
We create an 8 x 8 (numbers vary, ha!) table in a shared Google doc and take a moment to add words that come to mind into the cells. Most of the time, these words are mentioned in our catch-up time and incorporated into the poems we write. It’s delightful to see how each of use the words differently, together.
here's my poem-lib:
After: "An Exercise in Love"
BY DIANE DI PRIMA
for Jackson Allen
My friend wears my javelin at his forearm
I give him a snail
He gives me wicker & rain
He comes from a clinic & I meet him
We will chase swans & conch shells together
He lights me open, like candle
Many have lost the fear of missing out
I use for his patience
linen, & grout ponds
& mouse, the color of late
My friend fires pouty as a pot on the wind
He backlights my sex
He has carved courtyard beside my sink
I awake in the smell of his beach & cannot remember
his name, or my own.