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Like Love PV

February 4, 2010


Well the experiment at the Like Love PV was successful, in a way.


Firstly I like the effect of doing something that people have to take away with them, and am actually starting to get quite fetishistic about the products themselves. This time, these ugly, seedy brown envelopes giving a kind of ‘Lives of Others’ East German-chique.


A love note smuggled in amongst the paperwork.


Then there is the content, which as I expected was on the whole of no value other than as a personal artefact – a little extension on a thought. If only we had a little man to spend five minutes extending all of our thoughts like this, we would have a whole room full of nonsense.


Of course, the whole thing was a rush.  I wrote 12 poems in two hours.  One every five minutes.  Five minutes is a long time when you are stood waiting for a poem, but not so long when you are trying to come up with something original. I think I have actually peed for longer. I probably should do these things when there aren’t so many people around at the Bluecoat.


Actually, I am also going to write instruction on how to do this yourselves.


The poems that worked best tended to approach the simile from an odd angle.  that is, one that isn’t usually thought about love.  This way Google doesn’t throw up cliched stuff that has already been written about Love.


Like this one,



There are no specific areas designed

where impact with Love is minimized –

We are resting on each other’s rock.


There is no minimum distance anymore

on the island we have established,

nor any code of conduct.


We saw a few on Genovesa –

they generally sleep during the day

but people like us are nearly extinct.

The unusual metaphor or largest leap of the imagination is the satisfying one to make, if you can make it.


My favorite line tone came up in “LOVE IS LIKE A WARM BREEZE ACROSS MY CHEEKS”,


Dont you love the sound of wind chimes in Love?

Lampposts sprouted like bad weeds

along the sidewalks in front of Brooks Hall.

Cutting through the carpet of grass,

I looked eastward.  A hollow spread before me,

and beneath my tongue.

For the first time in my life I passed

through a swirling vortex.

I’d read ‘A Brief History of Time”

by Stephen Hawking, I’d even imagined myself

as one of those time traveling electrons

I’d read about in Popular Science.

None of it had prepared me.

Not properly, at least.

The one thing those things had done

was supply me with the knowledge

which allowed me to hypothesize what,

exactly, the giant swirling thing

that appeared in my bedroom that night was.

Love, twisting through my hair.


The best reaction I got was to this poem. The lady cried and gave me a big hug.




The sound of wet leaves reminds me of you.

The average droplet of rain.


The terminal velocity of our collision.

It was rather intense…


Does this mean we should be arrested?


Take a look at this: the first few pellets of snow

on the ground kind rustle before settling down.


The snow accumulates on the ground.

It seems like something I never did.



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