here is the exquisite corpse we created at last month’s amazing event. It’s written by virtually everyone who was in attendance at A Rrose in a Prose last month, and it goes from dark to political to comic. It’s almost like life in reverse!

In the beginning, there was the Word.
here is the exquisite corpse we created at last month’s amazing event. It’s written by virtually everyone who was in attendance at A Rrose in a Prose last month, and it goes from dark to political to comic. It’s almost like life in reverse!
On February 8, our crew met at Stories Books for a damned fine A Rrose in a Prose. Today we’re having another one, so this exquisite corpse from February is going up just in time, I hope, to whet our appetite for the Dadaist venture we’re oh so soon to face! Happy Daylight Savings’ Time …
… we all wrote a poem together by thinking of a word and then saying our words one by one in a random order. I think I’m going to call this format “Train Car Corpse.”
I don’t consider myself a writer at all, but I got a venereal disease anyway… Susan’s glass eye will have to be the next offering.
She was well-liked by you, too—in that deadly moment,
When someone new appears to sparkle in your vision,
And you know you are just fucked.
At every Rrose in a Prose, we try and write an exquisite corpse. Most take the form of, well, prose. But this month’s turned out to be a poem, and it’s pretty amazing. Roots Ask No Permission Roots ask no permission to take hold; They only need an environment. I want to […]
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 remission!
It’s getting harder and harder to find a quality crucifix.