Elizabeth Bishop used to hang her poems up around the house and read them as she passed by in order to get new eyes for revision.
Robert Lowell wrote a poem for her that describes her practice:
you still hang your words in air, ten years
unfinished, glued to your notice board, with gaps
or empties for the unimaginable phrase—
unerring muse who makes the casual perfect?
The wonderful find of a huge chalkboard with metal backing on the Yellow Springs garage sale page (thanks, Miracle), led to this adaptation of the practice. I may not have Bishop's talent or patience, but I'm looking forward to finding ways to make "the casual perfect."