from 100 Titles From Tom Beckett #76: The Sedimentation of Sentimentality Armageddon arrives; & the messages glide off every Hall- mark greeting card, merging as they meet. Then, collectively, this mess of mangled messages slides toward the nearest water, silts up the rivers. Continues to move, further downstream, has learnt from lava. Blocks the deltas. Water no longer / reaches the sea.
#10: Poem Beginning with a Line from Charlie McCarthy When I get smitten, I stay smut. It blasts the wheat in the ear, makes everyone I come in contact with seem less wooden than I am. Perhaps that's why it took me several days to get used to our very limited accommodation. Forget spending a few minutes in a relaxed state — I had to buy my own tung oil since none was provided. Then water started dripping from the apart- ment above. That meant the light wouldn't work. Now the dark place I was in be- came darker. I felt a hand, an arm, reach up my back. My mouth fell open. I couldn't speak; but still a voice spoke out. "i've got a good mind inside me to…" it started out. "Then why don't you use it," I interjected.
Moss Trill 