Tuesday, June 15, 2010



Two swapped letters, and a new creature
tumbles into this realm. Most often, it is a child
gifted in deletion, in destruction. For example,
exmaple. Former tree, no longer sugary or bearing
pointed leaves. When we want unite, the fingers
can slip, stumble over sounds that untie. Language
wobbles from us, unstable. It can conjure, can build,
and destroy. Destory the sounds in your mouth,
unclasp letters. Take it in, hear the uncomfortable
inversion. Like thunder that unclaps, there is space
filled by reassigned sound. Do you know what I mean,
how the surety of bolt wants to leap up into blot,
metal traded for tissue, locked down into soak up.


  1. wonderful!!
    - marcos

  2. I read somewhere once how sometimes the unhappy accident can lead to just the write word, for example, a typo as you are writing a poem, and the word fits better than the one you intended. I actually experienced that happen once, though I can't remember which word or which poem.


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