It’s hard. Themes want to emerge. Humans have an urge toward meaning. Trees want to be guardians. The moon is a sister. Peanut butter turns out to be a memory of childhood. Even the damn cracked concrete driveway suggests a journey.
But perhaps we can stimulate our creativity backwards by adding the pressure of resisting meaning, of not bowing to the urge to let those associations and connections come.
Here are mine. Complete sentences only! Let me ponder yours. I would like that.
Bark is blood.
Rebecca hands down rubber band wraps.
Brilliant, dried up sandwich meat drives off.
Oxen sunshine wins the pickle.
Father Betty put gloves on stools.
Falling face powder signals a new peace.
Add up all the mouse trap do-overs.
Can you do this?