Some things should never be mixed. Different sets of refrigerator poetry magnets, for instance. We have two on our fridge—
You know, the interesting thing about having little leftover sets of poetry magnets is that having extremely limited word choice makes you come up with constructions and combinations that are ... shall we say, unusual. Here’s one.
Rain and eggs,
I would conjure within.
Like you, am
yellow, and random automagically.
And here’s another:
Would you thank Sam with ham?
Do I conjure, like rain and eggs?
Say! random yellow mouse: blow in with microsoft sand ...
I had to cheat a bit on that last one by combining a stray “s” (which is really there to help make plurals) with a leftover “and” to make the “sand.” But I’m okay with that. We’ll call it poetic license.
None of these actually mean anything, of course. And yet, I feel like a properly motivated English major could easily wring a thesis or two out of ’em. Note the curious repetition of the phrase “rain and eggs” in both works. And why is the mouse yellow, do you suppose? Perhaps the artist was trying to make a statement about cowardice.
Or perhaps the artist was just running low on adjectives. Hard to say.
Next week, a longer post.