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98 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2013
you ask me as my foot hovers
gas then brak + I answer
/*
only in the same instance
when my breakfast eggs green
run red yolk + spill over my plate
like ocean over a flat earth's edge
*/
nope- Do You Still Think About Her?, pg. 18
* * *
amberlight sun canopy
across watery westward view
trading punchlines:
Coffin drops!
They prefer to stay at home!
William Shakespeare's wife's wine rack!
Carpet on every single finger!
A potato that can do long division!
A dyslexic walks into a rab!
San Frandisco!
Doggone!
Edible bachelors!
A front perch!
Herring aids!
A millionhare!- Is It Solipsistic In Here || Is It Just Me?, pg. 31
* * *
at the beginning we chose a vague destination
("San Frandisco" + we giggle remembering) but now
all we do is drive + stop + so we drive then stop for lunch
walking distance cafe windows open to the street
each patron writing a novel || a manual +
each typing each person typing in chorus
fingervoices sing clone sloppy nonhomerow
sing across laptop screens sing mp3s sing loops sing clones
|| reading subscripts || a novel || a cookbook
flip pages synced with each array
each flip a flap of thunderous wings a gale the wind
shoves stirred coffees + apple slice salads loop
punctuation in large strings picking bursts pause gusts pause
flip pause stir pause peck pause blase pause slice pause- Excuse Me, Sir, Do You Know Mrs. Pennyblossom?, pg. 45
* * *
the return trip is made up entirely of
other trips, the curves of other oceans highways north
the bridge toward Oakland is crowded
interloping, a tall + obvious construction
morning sky edges burn through mist, the very tips
we return, two Canadian passengers
carrying dirty clothes + souvenirs
heavy oceansalt- Why Is Long Division Such Hard Work?, pg. 61
* * *
that second Pateros morning, hungover, open window + a
footnoted email: a freudian slip is when you say one thing but
mean your father
(133 characters)- Know Any Good Internet Explorer Jokes?, pg. 80
* * *
+there: a certain sadness
I answer the door now + there's no one
with magpie hair stabbing the wind in looping keystrokes- Knock Knock Knock?, pg. 90