Thursday, July 12, 2012

New lines from the homophonic telephone

I've been in the (long) process of proctoring a short poem's homophonic journey through different languages (see previous posts here and here). So far the poem has gone English -> German-> Polish-> Faroese-> German -> Hebrew-> French-> English-> Spanish-> Korean-> Telegu-> Italian. It's currently being put, sound for sound, into Maltese. I meant this chain to be shorter, to be about what survives from the original. But I extended the project to meet the page count requirement for a Anomalous Press' chapbook contest. And now it's become about the journey of words and the personality of each new poem. Here are some lines from the latest samples:
  • If allowed, there is no newspaper in the heart.
  • Same with the police, / almost got guts.
  • The fate of friends, / Matt says, perchance, / is rain`, love, / hats.
  • Of storks, today there are none, I heard.
  • My love makes this city famous.
  • The toasts are untamed, we say nothing.
It's nearly a year since the start of this project - slow, slow. But art, love, and other worthwhile things always are. Thank you for attending to these words, reader, nonsensical and strange. More to come soon.

Lines Written between Dublin and Keflavik

These words are not meant to be read in their entirety. Skim them the way this plane skims the cloud layer, jostling sometim...