keyword #3:"a city at night"

steel beams sigh at
sun lost, a slow
abandonment to sole,
single strolling night-watch
men, remaining world alight or
soundly snug; a couple screams from
abstract, accusations lost from
windows that once cried joy,
splendor, now a dismal hum against
the dreams that drown them out.

Keyword #2: "despair" (as conjured in Martyn by Nabokov, in two parts)

"despair; 2.1"

these facets sprawl
labyrinthine, corners cut
deep below the surface
of highrise expectations.

surfaces jagged, engraved with
freedom of choice:
layers abundant
measured in metric scaling
of toxicity.
facades chipped, fading
falling fast to wasteland arms
that grasp the only, the
singular stance of reprieve--
none of the above.

________________________

"despair; 2.2"

a hand to beseech amongst
debris of emaciated intent
lopped off at the wrist
digits flexing toward a final
repose, to clenched
hand-in-fist. why
does it always end like this?
amputated extremities with
chain still attached
key down your throat, lost
left less a limb but
an X on the wall
signaling all I ever wanted
a maligned statistic.

Keyword #1: resistance (in shades of etymology...and pretention, it seems)

ramparts loom
above the dusk, quiet, assuming
the isolation sewn
from strands of a self
in retreat

carousing steep stages
unrepentant of this
object, if I'd
only relented
an age ago

if I'd
abjure, if only
recognize--obtest
vertigo's mournful hues--
panes of sky broken
beneath the rising weight
of regret.

Daily Keywords with Martyn Conterio and Danielle Booth: A Joint Poetry Venture

My dear friend Martyn, who lives in London, finally shared a stanza from one of his poems with me. It happened to be about the first time we met face-to-face, as we'd previously known each other through a Myspace literature forum of awesomeness called The Fiction Files, and he flew to Venice to meet me and experience the Biennale. It was a lovely time; we got on great, wandered about, chased hordes of Japanese tourists in a bizarre attempt to make a short film via digital camera video about the resurrection of dead philosophers descending upon the sinking city,

Anyway.

Martyn's a writer; I'm a writer. He writes poetry; I write poetry, though not as often as I'd like to force upon myself. Martyn never lets me read anything, even though he's been published. I'd like to write much more frequently and keep in closer touch with my friend, and suddenly--in an IM conversation with him, he properly pissed and me on a 4-day run of avoiding sleep almost entirely--I thought of something.

A joint poetry writing project wherein we send one another daily keywords or concepts, picked using whichever method we choose, with or without specific stipulations as to context, usage, etc--a launching pad to drive the both of us into the daily practice of poetry composition. I am sure the results will produce a lot of useless swill, but the focus, the repetition, and the discipline will help the both of us to hone our poetic senses and that both of us are producing will drive each of us to fulfill the commitment.

I've been assigned my first keyword, no stipulations: resistance

Results to follow.