1. The Strangely Obvious
Find somewhere quiet and private where you are unlikely.
Try to pick the place where you can be damaged,
disturbed, transported. How many times should you read the book?
This is a personal choice.
Let’s assume for the moment that you’ve chosen
a work of fiction. Be careful here.
Do not fall into the boring trap
of reporting every single thing that happens.
Find somewhere pleasurable and irretrievably specific.
Keep the book beside you. Be aware.
Long word. Short breath. Your personal response.
An important question to ask yourself—do you love
the reader of your report?
In pencil, let your bustle arise…
2. the fine print
the possibility of hidden love
letters, dirty prints, page numbers
jotted in the margins (a),
then rubbed off. tiny pink debris
of discarded characters. insatiable friction
in a frisson-esque stack, flirting
w/ me until I have to do it.
i stole a candy-striped text
from the church library.
i slid it under my little girl dress (b).
easter egg cover and bloody inside.
sensationalistic technicolor vibe
of martyrs so hot they boiled alive.
lead cauldrons, plucked-out eyes, optic nerve squiggles
in silver vessels like smashed red tadpoles.
flailing limbs fettered to mean, frothy steeds.
petit fours. pieces of a naked lady &
the gawkers, the voyeurs. the close readers of
the fine print inside eviscerated innards (c).
i rooted around for books
in a stranger’s dank basement,
brimful of forbidden loot. morsel by morsel,
illicit little thrills ignited
behind my eyes, inside my panties.
i ripped off book jackets;
devoured. long words. short breaths. hot sentence
like specially designed teeth to the lobe (d).
a mouthful of blister pearls
burned my tongue into a mutation;
into words like morphological fondue (e).
you know you want to slither into
this cave filled with stars (f).
3. the footnotes
(a) sniff the marginalia
(b) insert your finger between the lines and tap the
caesura
(c) swallow throbbing vowels
vertebrae like syllables
vowels like jewels
syllables like octopi
(tentacular & inky)
(d) lick my voice like it’s a strip
of button candy with a sinister twist;
kiss my wrists when they hiss
like an overheated oven
(e) to sizzlingly decorate every paper cut
you dip into me
(f) i’ll even let you draw & quarter my poetry
