Quarantine Collage Poetry
Call for Works
DEADLINE – JUNE 1, 2020
SUBMISSIONS WINDOW NOW CLOSED – WATCH FOR THE BOOK!
Taking snippets of statements, headlines, imagery from the daily news. Compose collage poems while we are all in quarantine. If you add your own words to connect things together, put in brackets [like this]. Punctuate how you wish. Long or short poems. Arrange how you wish. At the bottom of the poem try to mention the sources of the material.
To participate make collage poetry with text taken from current news reports (compared to images). Can be any length. Can be however many poems you want to submit. Can be in any language (I will use google translator to have an english translation to go with the poems in other languages.) All submissions will be posted on this page. Send something everyday or as many as you like. It is intended as a record for this historical moment.
I’ll make a really short one as an example…
TV in America.
There was no cure.
You couldn’t find the silent carriers
to do contact tracing.
Right after that [we started]
finding out where our hotspots were:
Fallen heros in the cafeteria.
Source: snippets typed while listening to MSNBC News live conversation.
Corona is the new world’s largest prison.
Landlords warn ~ researchers are testingPolice prevent friends [tobe]Symbols at a soup kitchen without food.Friday kicks off temperature checks…“Without going Home,” she said.
Museums remain shuttered a glimpse into what the “new normal” might look like social distancing and containment measuresguidelines for reopeningsupplying all staff with disinfectant materialsone
( Russian version ) Достоверная информация…… цепочка последовательных фактов.[Если] в этой цепи отсутствуют звенья,[то] это достоверная информация[?] Этой [«достоверной»] информации[с отсутствующими звеньями] мы можем доверять?Мы
The feast of solutionismtwo years’ worth of digital transformation in two monthsheralds a darker future of techno-totalitarian state surveillancekissing goodbye to the shrivelled democracy we
hello mrs. weinburgerwhite-coated doormancheery blonde wearinga mask perhaps a stranded gulf princecheers in hell everybody knows your namedank food court, ornate fabricscrystal chandeliers a slew
make no bones about itseparate from the “herd”there is that within us its voice perpetually whispers a “get out of jail free” cardDefining your own pathto consider
world is still, isolated. fearful.The metaphor of the caged beast.upended lives, suffering, imperiling.people in dire situations, precariousData paints a harrowing picture. Of need.can’t buy food.