I haven't written anything on this blog lately, but that doesn't necessarily mean I'm dead. I am recovering from stomach flu, however, which is the next best thing. I was at least going to show you another one of my canadian rabbits before I crawl back into bed, but Bloogle won't allow it today, for some reason. So how about a found poem instead?
“We sight cast to tailing reds
a 25-inch west-side
caught on a popper. Waters
support double digit days,
vast unpressured flats,
thick seagrass meadows.”
The former snail hunter of Kahalu`u feeds her chicken
-
Her cigarette smoke preceded her; as we turned the corner, she muttered
something about "our nation." A hen paced beside the fence, demanding to be
fed....
3 days ago
