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I like this, Jeff. Many of the phrases strike at an unusual tangent, like "my lungs eat away at the Psalmist" or "my lying promises.... my lucky pennies" for example. I did wonder whether it was slightly too long, +however+, I'd qualify that by the observation that my own experience of reading on a computer screen differs from that of reading print on paper, it does seem to me that there is a psychological difference in the act of reading via different media, maybe that's because I grew up on print, so that what seems long on the screen does not do so on the page, my tolerance level seems to be attuned to about a screen and a bit, as it were. All the Best Dave David Bircumshaw Leicester, England Home Page A Chide's Alphabet Painting Without Numbers http://homepage.ntlworld.com/david.bircumshaw/index.htm ----- Original Message ----- From: "Jeff Harrison" <[log in to unmask]> To: <[log in to unmask]> Sent: Friday, August 08, 2003 3:54 AM Subject: My Jeff Harrison my mansions cage a bit... my World Virginia... my slow down (my speed up is free)... my verse... my fireplace over the hypodermic gone seventeen hours large... my bed one part photographs, three parts breakfast... my Eternal Damnation came as quite a relief... My Lucky Dollar my way out... my eyes & the dust I clean my sugar with... my bared skin... my sensitive Formosa....my lying promises.... my lucky pennies... my small wings... my who's who is in who is (blank)'s foundation... my right hand cut off & how many poets would then find themselves left-handed?... my prime suspect for the theft of my starved fox ashes... you're my night... the spiteful riddles of my tongue.... my liberty is drawing toward silence... prayers thus amazed saw each new face in my eyes... my eyes troubled the summer with Prussian copies... axioms conceived my heart... my ancestors read Nerval in a characteristic phylogeny plantation... my Siren lies under other skies... my equipment is becoming something of an American world... my good name born amongst her imperfect gravity... my lungs eat away at the Psalmist... my common sense tells me "readers are not witnesses"... my darling resemblance is a few steps away... my ears thin-metal an explanation... my bed seemed so far away... my exclamations light did rent the best a la moderation... my dearest... my dinner reputation always cudgeled red-hot to mark the world from what Virginia marks as literary... my skin crawls in sympathy when I think 'pon the prowling skin of lefthand flowers... my suggestion is licensed to do what you're so eager for... my knee beheld their eyebrows spectacular... my works on paper suggested to me by my substitute... my house creatures are half-built words... threaten my own lips in return for more time... my sight suddenly restored by beastliness... my shoes chuck out a shade to dance a rant... no use my counting for nothing... have I not the scent of my trembling betters?... my blood runs at their hitherto pierced sleeps plugged now with phrase... my hound-tooth tearing the sky open white as clouds... my moving part like a fox slimy with heart... my ridiculous commitment to the silent stone inside me... my neck crowding-swept out to the willows... you're my two broken strings & every moon that falls quiet... my shabby tail's mechanical fruit gone All Loud Wormswork... my promise spat between the blood forks... the forbidden suffer my tumor of birds... my zodiac's broken into stumps your telescope gapes... where my wanders ended Shelley's began... I named my sled Violet... my early contacts pulled into shape by, ah, moonfolks... my gangplank notes considered succulent... my shrug slips the knock-out... my snooze ceased with a sneeze... my own flesh left to flower... the top of my light is already out of the frame... souring my silver with air relentless & desolate... my eye swamping 1000 years for mountains between numbers & oaths... my child is Cold Earth... waves sack my whole as it topples Bad Cuttlefish's... my first vicinity was a tolerably warm boot upon a road lately removed... Medusa will use her mirrored artery to espy my caduceus... my wooden horses... I got my own Laura too (not Laura II)... my own Jeff Harrison... _________________________________________________________________ STOP MORE SPAM with the new MSN 8 and get 2 months FREE* http://join.msn.com/?page=features/junkmail