New Poetry Night

The following is from Merrie Earnest. Her name is Olde Englishe and means "Joy Sincerity" in modern tongue. The following is privileged information, which means: don't abuse it. The addresses and phone are for poetry night purposes, and I trust that even as an open post, this is all they will be used for. Unless, of course, you get to be great friends with Merrie, because she's badass and all, but then you wouldn't need this post would you? you sick bastard.

Poetry night shall be Sunday night at 9:00--my place. (615 W. Oak St. - Apt. E. Yellow House.)



It will not be about particulars,
critiques, or names.

It becomes only what
you have become, what
you bring to this
inky feast,

a desire shared and bent
into words, futile
little doves we
madmen keep on
catching,

thinking only seldom
to let them
go.





Also, tell your friends and anyone who wants to breathe poetic air.

My number is 214-202-0030 if anyone has any questions about location, my dreams, etc.
But my phone is currently broken so just query me via e-mail.
I live via these e-mails btw. That's why there's so many. Feed me.

merrie@earnest.com

On Radial Digits

She first began to feel it as a phantom thumb. Her thumb hadn't been gone long, and if it was destroyed out of frustration, it was only natural that the frustration of not being able to use it, not being able to rely on the greatest evolutionary achievement of our race, would bring it back.

She could pop the joint, explore the angles of the knuckle, idly pare the nail. It was the nail-paring that alerted her to the "presence" of another. Thumb.

Another thumb.

On her left hand, where to the casual witness there would appear to be four parallel digits, Berkley Hedgerow felt a near fin, a fan of phalanges, and damn she could play that twelve-finger rag; had Waller on a platter and Joplin in the bag. So she wasn't having a bad time about it. It was probably the opposable toes that first brought back that same frustration which caused her to chew off her thumb in the first place. She was powerless to realize the Chimp-Toe Boogie she has effortlessly audiated after discovering her phantom toes. She felt clumsy, unsure without the support of a radial digit.

Without a revolving axis, a revolutionary axis, what influence could she have? Only the most shallow of significance: direct approach, phallic, astrologically masculine. A severed thumb. As if she had become her missing piece, a mere ghost.

But this orbital axis, made the more important by Galileo's etymological contribution, was that about which her attention revolved. The axis would reorient itself, with some regard to her Cartesian planes, without regard to Berkley's desires or cognitive limits. It paralleled her spine, and spun, and new limbs sprang from her body, new, truly new, unjointed or many-jointed, strong or weak or anostic, moving or frozen like some Hindu ikon. The thumb was only just beyond a novelty, the toes a cause for rejoice, the invention of the axis a cause for rebirth... The axis spins and shifts, appendages bloom, and this linear obsession is reduced to an origin: a single point from which the anemone frame of her body was able to bloom. And Berkley only one of--