Thursday, February 7, 2013

poems || Winston Plowes

1 Lrg Silhouette, 3 Sm

5,4,3,2,1                                             [child, whispering]
Sit Down Please

I want you to know

Deep in the cell of my heart

I’m so sorry                                                              [sung]

Hold on a little bit longer darling
‘cause I will be gone.

So, so, sorry                                                             [sung]

There’s a little red light there 

Deep in the cell of my heart
I really want to go

Dad, I’m in the room                                       [shouted]
It’s sad, it’s too sad

Don’t try and wake me in the morning

You don’t sing me to sleep at bedtimes
Sing me to sleep
Sing me to sleep
Sing me to sleep

Under here

1 Lrg Silhouette, 3 Sm

(A found poetry experiment)

My work concerns the interaction between two small groups sat in front of me (hence the title) with the short film, The Smithsons by Cyprien Gaillard on two successive sittings on 10th November 2012, Manchester Art Gallery. I have merged the lyrics from the film (from Asleep by The Smiths, shown here in italics) with collected found words spoken by the audience before, after and during the film. The manner in which these words were delivered is also sometimes indicated, e.g. sung (which in fact are lyrics from another Morresey song, Suedehead sung by an audience member). By choosing the order of words from both sources I hope to give the original words new meaning and added resonance.


Butterfly [Rearing] House 2008

what would happen
[if] she could meet a man like her
He came here once [before]
[with his] curves of desire
Maybe here [a past life]
links its tongue into your neck
This new man [curled] in your bed
His legs and his truth wrapped around you
[Where] Lobster pink petals
[close] until its time to sleep
Let us borrow the colour of another world
[and] drown in [its] sweetness
Dark and plump as aubergines
Real and full as his [varied] alibis
I want to run away from this [dream]
Spit the salt out of our mouths
I’d like a dress the colour of carp
[So we can swim in the] dust of our pockets
Its not that easy [now]
imagining that this is joy
[He] made our rituals irreverent
its not easy to forget

Words in square brackets by Winston Plowes (2012).
All other words reproduced as found word strings
from a 2008 notebook by Gaia Holmes. 

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