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   m a y    2 6,    2 0 0 0

--- J O A N N A   F U H R M A N


Pigeons arrive at my window in leg braces.

The honey in our national defense sticking to the data, quote unquote.

Someone needs to quarantine these results.

"Music is only politics if you're tone deaf or have a conscience."

Neither of which is a problem if the air-conditioner

in the inherited Buick drones over the Rachel Carlson tape. What sings

is quantifiable as the fingerprint of an actual dead woman found in a linguistic toaster oven.

(At least the appliance received health care!)

Still, when the frigid quarters in our pockets contemplate the new white plates

at the disco bowling alley of aquatic mistakes

it's as if every six years we were given a kazoo so powerful it could blow brains into and out of position's

billowing wig.

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published in association with the |
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