Two-Row Buttoned Accordion

I have been trying to read E. Annie Proulx’s book “Accordion Crimes” for more than a month now and so far I am still stuck somewhere in between page 96. If my bookmark happened to be a seed of some sort, it might have grown roots and soon enough grow a huge trunk with lush leaves like that of the Little Prince’s wild baobabs in his asteroid 325. Out of sheer boredom which obviously the book did too little to alleviate and desperate attempts for intellectual stimulation; I tried to construct/arrange a Dada-Surrealist poem with lines ripped from the book "Accordion Crimes" borrowing E.Annie Proulx’s words.

The steps are pretty simple

To make a Dadaist poem:

• Take a newspaper.
• Take a pair of scissors.
• Choose an article as long as you are planning to make your poem.
• Cut out the article. Then cut out each of the words that make up this
article and put them in a bag.
• Shake it gently.
• Then take out the scraps one after the other in the order in which they
left the bag.
• Copy conscientiously.
• The poem will be like you.

And here you are a writer, infinitely original and endowed with a sensibility
that is charming though beyond the understanding of the vulgar.

-Tristan Tzara

Well I don’t despise the book that much to shred it but I did employ another technique. Instead of newspaper I used the book “Accordion Crimes”; using a pencil I underlined the random lines first at every 29 pages from the entire book starting from the back page progressing to front page (but I eventually got lost hahaha >.<) anyway voila my very own Dada-Surrealist poem.

To what purpose this activity may have benifited me and the human race? The Human race I don't pretend to care much besides the Human race have too much of these kinds of stuff cluttered around everywhere rendering it perhaps utterly useless but to me this sure saved me from a few hours of boredom, drudgery and mediocrity.

Two-Row Button Accordion


In the afternoon the pain began to boil and bubble,

so we got divorced

of popcorn saturated with margarine

“8 ˚ F”

For a painter was the horse

of gold death’s head with ruby eyes

who sewed their children, into their clothes

pauses for effects; sound effects.

the green door

dipped in inkwell

saw the decaying carcass of a dead hanged cat

still in the dead air

lured by the sign in the window


“FREE CHEWING GUM UNDER SEATS”


10/26/09

Image scanned from the book "Accordion Crimes"