Thank you to everyone who contributed to this month’s exquisite corpse—the final corpse of the year. All your excellent lines have given our exquisite corpse another month of purpose!
I do have my computer back, so I’m able to pair our poem with an image again. The way the lines came together amaze me. I have a sense of this collaborative poetry form as being something akin to magic. How do we all manage to create something so connected each month from such disconnected parts? Magic.
I wish everyone a wonderful 2019. May the distasteful bits of 2018 fall from your life to rot in the past and may the beautiful parts remain, growing brighter over the coming year until they illuminate every dark recess… except the shadowed corners you to choose to preserve. We can’t wipe away all the darkness, of course, or light would have no purpose.
Please enjoy the final corpse of the year, and I hope you will rejoin me soon for our next collaborative creation. This month’s eCorpse prize is a necklace containing real dirt sustainably harvested from Edgar Allan Poe’s original grave site—the perfect lucky charm for horror writers. This month’s winner is Sumiko Saulson. Congratz Sumiko, I will be emailing you for your address. Contributor names are in order of their line.
The last chimes of the old year die on a frozen wind as our corpse stretches sinew and cord to sing one last verse to times past. His fingers clutch at nothing, for that is all that is left to him… except words.
Lines of verse have been offered and he receives them gratefully as the lines that tether him to this place between worlds. Without them, he would cease. The gifted fragments are enough to quicken his thickened blood and give pulse.
Blank eyes look skyward at the hypnotic fall of midnight snow, and across the emptiness of winter he sings… and lives…
Read past corpse creations…
Exquisite Corpse #1: Collaborative Poem
Exquisite Corpse #2: The Daunting Riddle
Exquisite Corpse #3: Toxicated
Exquisite Corpse #4: Deceptions
Exquisite Corpse #5: Final Chimes
Exquisite Corpse #6: Treading