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    Friday, January 27, 2006

    Rows of Hands


    a comma-shaped half between day light and dusk, dirt like air—is breathable and not bone, human wrist, located in a somewhere town on a somewhere beach in the first row of a memory
    ship shape up like a—

    also called navicular



    crescent-shaped for that is the middle warm breaded, broken into pieces to toss proximal row between the scaphoid and the triquetral seagulls that swoop, feathered with wind a deep concavity a dip between wing bones on the distal surface your shape is shifting and tossed

    called also lunate



    it is on the ulnar side the cliff bending and standing throw something off but does not articulate it wishes to be is pyramid-shaped is ledge-less, a swift drop off formed from Latin which means "three-cornered"

    called also triquetral



    a bone little-finger side not eight but 10 or 2 counting only little resembling a fanned out existing beach, splay of— a pea in size /shape a multitude of grit a pitvotal moment, a final stage developed last

    called also—



    a quadrilateral with no parallel sides sand dollar white and oblong a multiple star in the constellation of Orion bone on the thumb side a bone in the distal row base the thumb, the oceans edge met with dry sand tipping out, gleaming

    called also greater multangular



    the base of the forefinger quadrilateral having two parallel sides your juvenile plume sandpiper a small bone a small bird, long beak in the wrist daintily scurry feet do not flick it now near the base of the index finger run straight for dry ground

    called also lesser multangular


    os magnum

    abruptly enlarged and globular globe like encompassing more than wet, then water a rounded, knoblike end Forming a headlike mass or dense cluster the flowers of ice plants bloom and blossom coating an articulation between stiff/spiky and the bursting through of magenta a step off a drop down

    also called capitate



    small, hook-shaped driftwood is light flight like bone of the wrist, a bone on the little-finger side, second row sucker punched and hooked on a tip

    also called hamate

    *This poem actually appears with the first 4 poems in a row and the second 4 appearing directly below the first 4. Therefore, when you read you can read multiple ways in multiple combinations. If I was more html savvy I would put a fancy table in and then you could see what I meant, rather than merely imagining it.

    Friday, January 13, 2006

    Wooden Boys with Bendable Legs

    Little Wooden Boy or Pinocchio or Poor Little One in a non-history city

    Like when you have too much animal blood lying around
    Or under a door frame, inside a tight fitting onclave
    Seeping into cracks, little wooden boy legs

    Bursting like flowers from so much happiness
    But the Two Others were not flowering but dying
    Weed tendrils focused on suffocation
    Poor Little One had stolen the nutrients,
    the bursting belonged to him because he said it was so.

    This is the only thing he is sure of

    There is no History City, there are no malnourished dogs
    Little One is a liar.
    Tumorous butterflies fly but they fly with swollen middles
    Zig zag like

    Two steps further is 200 million miles
    wooden legs stained in blood can not make it
    more than 1.9999 million steps before they splinter
    into pieces and Others use them to play fetch

    delusional, grandiose tantrums will ensue
    flaying of legs and necks are close to
    real limb-ful moments
    but limb-ful is not wholesome
    when the sky is dipping into the ocean
    and the island that you have been floating on
    bobbing like a cork
    is really a giant fish belly
    swollen and white like a knee bone

    after reading Kim Rosenfield, Trama

    Thursday, January 05, 2006


    What's on your reading list for 2006?

    I find that during a break I consume fiction at a rapid rate. In the last week or so I've finished the The Better of McSweeney's, Disgrace by J. M. Coetzee, and In the Garden of the North American Martyrs by Tobias Wolff. A large stack sits by my bed too numerous to name. But I need more fiction recommendations because school starts soon and once it starts fiction gets put on hold.

    I'm in the middle of countless poetry books: Povel by Geraldine Kim, Nets by Jen Bervin, Vice by Carla Harryman, Why/Why Not by Martha Ronk, Locale by Jessica Grim, The Hounds of No by Lara Glenum and the literary journals: Phoebe & American Letters & Commentary. I know there's more but again they're sitting in a separate pile on the floor near my bed.

    I often find books in my bed under the covers, books that I will end up looking for for days. Do you fall asleep with your books?
  • Occasional Work & 7 Walks from the Office for Soft Architecture,Lisa Robertson
  • Observatory Mansions, Edward Carey
  • Siste Viator,Sarah Manguso
  • Point and Line, Thalia Field
  • 1913,issue 2
  • JetSetReady
  • Book Blog
  • Kid Sorrow
  • 14 Hills
  • Other Voices 2008 Younger Poets Anthology
  • Poe25{cent}em
  • sidebrow
  • eleven eleven {11 11}
  • New San Francisco Writing
  • Canwehaveourballback?
  • 42opus
  • Identity Theory
  • TellTaleHeart
  • Bri's Hub
  • Broke Robot
  • Musings from the God of Cities
  • Dinosaur Comics
  • Strong Bad
  • Rejected
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