I sent a get-well card and wound up with a corpse…

So, yesterday was A Rrose in a Prose, which was amazing and had wonderful performances by Ian MacKinnon, Drew Denny, Tom Neely, Flannery Lunsford, Justin Maurer, and myself.

But our guest of honor, Allison Anders, couldn’t be there–she had the sniffles and was a little under the weather.

I thought it would be fun to have the audience write her a get well letter, but not a conventional one–rather, we’d write it as an Exquisite Corpse, the dadaist game that if you don’t know by now, you must have had no fun in high school. Basically, you take a poem or story or drawing, one person starts it off, and the next person does the next little bit only getting to see where the connection is but not what the piece as a whole might be, not until it’s finished.

We opted for the prosaic Exquisite Corpse, where one person writes five lines, paragraph-style, and then passes it along to the next person, who only sees the fifth line and has to try and continue the thought. And it started off great, much like a get-well letter should be! But then very very quickly it descended into a place of madness, of darkness, sex, and depravity, so that I’m worried it will be like a Groundhog’s Day of health and scare Allison back into sickville! Truth be told, I think some of the people didn’t listen to my full instructions and thought they were writing a poem, not a get-well letter, which explains all the blood and cum. I still haven’t decided if I’m going to actually show this to Allison. Maybe she’ll stumble across it after she’s feeling a little better.

Here is the final piece we came up with. For the sake of clarity, I’m titling it:




SODA AND THE WOMB

Dear Allison,

My name is Mallison. I know, weird right? I’ve known many women named Allison (or Alison), and our relationships have been passionate and tempestuous. I hope my baby doesn’t wake up. Is that a non-sequitur? Perhaps, but I’m just being honest here.

We’re sitting here, relaxing, enjoying our coffee, and it’s the foremost thing on my mind. XXX. I want you to feel good! You have shared so much joy, inspired such creation. I’m closing my eyes & sending love and picturing you naked.

In the bathtub
drinking Coca-cola
and sending a fax to the
Skype.

A nice medium for virtual sex
will get you better
in body and soul
electric spirit electric sex

Crazy girls make the best nest
Salami bitch and brazen whore
Trickster meets a lackluster boar
La la la baking with flour
Staring down the craven hour

You can see things coming into focus, sharp, clear, bright—then fluffy, cottony, floaty again, but this time it’s totally fun.

And the demons will be on the run. So many hearts need to be won! The world catches up to you. True blue indigo womb.

You fascinate the fascination of my body up against yours. Smashed in blood mixed with sweat.

I reach for you
drawing you in
licking the blood off your stomach

I CHOKE ON YOUR DAD’S CUM
and all your mother’s insecurities

-Ryan Fuller, Drew Denny, Flannery Lunsford, Charles Mallison,  Greg Saunders, et al.

D. M. Collins

D. M. Collins is a journalist and writer based in Los Angeles.

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