Unmoveable Feast featured poet Chris Martin recently came to visit LSU and intervened in Andrei Codrescu's poetry class with a game: Each poet collects the poem of the poet to the right and the left of him. Using lines from both poems the poet writes a new poem. 

So what happens when poets openly steal from other poets and then make new poems? The final product is what we present to you here, a project undertaken by William Burke, Mel Coyle, Jordan Soyka, Benjamin Lowenkron, Karin deGravelles, James Claffey, Kristin Sanders, Jennifer Tamayo, Kyle Barnett, DeWitt Brinson, Susan Kirby-Smith and Andrei Codrescu -- the first two initials at the side of each poem being those of the contributing poets and the second, the coordinating poet. We the Codrescu poetry class of  '09 give you:



when all peach stones
drink alone : blue skies

I hate
obscure love
with its one

then summer don’t have no exit
spermpackets into rosehips wild

what a broke tooth to live

                                                                                                                                                    WB, MC, JS


chainsaws dream orchards
to hang at my fly ash bohemia

on the wall above
smokestacks refine their howl
& watch dayflies get born

what a day
the sun a rotting peach
the sun distracts us
be ready the sun’s in town

I don’t have a decent pair of pants
how much you gonna give now

                                                                                                                                                    BL, MC, KDG


Friday Girl

I need more fingers
+ sand

touch me with two fingers
and blue skies

an element
floating your fingers

as a pearl broke tooth

stiff as pain

goes like a feather
floating like this:

bone up
her fingers in/on me

Breastbud like this:

Summer fingers
In on me

Stiff as a board
                                                                                                                                                                                                        WB, KS, KB


July 27

Fireman I like how you’re a Goldfish full on candy and snacks. Me too. You forgot to say happiness. Me too. Goldfish I wish we could. Goldfish can mean sunlight. Goldfish can mean driving forever. Goldfish I like how you are my back. Baton Rouge I like how you are flexible. Me too. I am not as. Neither am I.

                                                                                                                                                                                                    JT, SK-S, MC


How can I tell you

God has gone fishing
                                        about his neck
                                                                       fences                 rivers                 skin
                                                                                                                                three on a Sunday afternoon
                                                                                        where I met and married
                                                                                        the extra rib
                    ripped from the guts of a stewardess
                                                            the nuns found a nice King of the Jews
                                                                                                            surviving member
                                                                                passed through a hole in the fence
                              fended off all comer
                              at the narrow entrance to the cockpit
                                                                                                        the borders of my life
                                                                                        after castration at Cedar’s Sinai

                                                                                                                                                                                                        JC, KDG, BL



There was once a boy who
hung the “Gone Fishing” sign.
This was very troubling.

The lanyard about his neck
hadn’t believed the gossip:

God created woman!
No, the boy thought.

Heave, turn the thick liquid
as a disbelief tends to.

Stunned researchers under questioning
at once, inspite of reason,
with the extra rib.

He liked buttons
under questioning.
He had no outsider perspective.

Do they have an extra rib?
He was blind to boyhood.

The only surviving member
stopped wearing pants.

   DB, JC, JN


once light                as disbelief tends to do   

there was floating        a foreign touching

rumors of a man in town

hard as a breastbud    blind to boyhood   

light as a woman        gossip with frills.

the first immortalized

man became certain      

Assumed they were lovers    the man of course

Is it working?                Stiff as a board     

In spite of reason          Stiff  as a board

Floating your fingers        The man became certain

Very nice skin                and stiff  as a board.

                                                                                                                                                                                                   KS, DWB, SK-S



The brick wall takes the blood
the stone houses bathe in soot
on the stoop the bodies still
and the crows eat shit anyway.

The gas station a rotting peach
open windows on the wall above
whiskey with flaming tongues
drained away in your hair.

The river grinds eyeteeth to blindness
sunk tight in the ashen levy
I saw the river over her delta.
time to storm the end of days.                                                                                                                           

                                                                                                                                                                                                          JN, BL, JC


I with her rosehips just wild

I no closed to my quilt my yes broken
bone by and skirts may freshly fire meekness
humble attention as a stone . I broke three
and they always like a— what?— of you, love.
Grab the I prance her goes my petted this:
still then I with her rosehips just wild
I and she compulsive I exit she stain
but Sir this up before a before
tooth on sand off element
walking obscure amazed
(pain?) the summer hurriedly
its negotiating ticks to blue. A peach.

                                                                                                                                                                                                        KB, WB, KS


The Kristinian Suzenelle

Light as a feather
the reason I dislike him
Light as a woman
is that he reminds me of me
Your fingers in on me
I like how you are flexible
Light as a feather stiff as a board
They ran out of them at the store
Is this thing off the ground?
Me too. I like how you are flexible
More fingers, I need more fingers
They ran out of them at the store
It’s working
I am less flexible than Oratio.
The reason I dislike him
Light as a woman stiff as a girl
You forgot to say the H
Hard as a breastbud soft as a curl

                                                                                                                                                      KS, SK-S, AC