Like it Matters by Nancy Dzina

(is a poem within the poem AutoBiOblit)

Unblanked paper deceives. Quineauesque

introduction: disbosom. Pan-o-ram. Cotton Mather

implies licking, saucy, underlying substance. Chops.

Poetry got spendy. Losses may be paid by removal,

exposure, but not zero-sum style. Not prim.

Striptease, strip poker, speak easy but don’t

give it away. Hatta’s game is always afoot.

Starting gate is finish line. In the velodrome

of writing prompts, we are all of us going

nowhere. X-P13 AAG-TGC-ACG-GCC-TAT-AAG

on earth, all “rosy of glow” every time.

Where eternal repetition  means more than

broken record, form alone gives me

the slip. Probably pink. Imagine an ellipsis

no longer material. It’s Carl Sagan time, &

a no-brainer down to the letter. I know

therefore I am Superfluous Girl. Why try?

Flurry, by JKD

a rewording, downparing of Dzina's "On the other hand"

Invisible petals 
flowerbursts 
through snow
a Sunday morning



.

On the other hand by Nancy Dzina

After Jennifer K. Dick's poem "Palm Reading" after Cole Swensen’s poem “Fingers: Alignment”

Someone else sees

in their hands our eyes

no longer (ours). This fading’s

not so bad, so long

ago apparent, no need

to rush things, after all

we have light years

before our map carries

much less names.

                           Invisible

petals drop, the flower

bursts to finish, the floor

holds a different notion of

where we are in the story.

The waggle of pages, time

gesture time: gently just-so cast

inner layer tender out then mend

one for another, knowing

and knowing not what hint

of rock may steady then break

any drift of witness. Even

interlocked phalanges

spring from open palms

unbrailled with potential.

When I was a kid, though I never

saw it, I knew the congregation

of the steepled church of hands

could become unpeopled

at the blink of a trigger guard.

Try to disturb my fist.

Good luck with that.

Palm Reading by Jennifer K Dick

After Cole Swensen’s poem “Fingers: Alignment” from The Book of a Hundred Hands (U of IA) (Swensen’s poem is online at: http://www.tumblr.com/tagged/cole-swensen)

We (read I, read the eye of the) cannot congregate

declare (I do) the constellation (I’m bound to)
blind, blunder (I’ve always known it), but

you have never before (have you?)
complied

with the people I think I’ve seen every day,

(have I seen, am I, and then to see is, at sea)

and then of the people I
four or five days a month

a mourning those I say twice

I’ve known (I have been known to)

(I know you, too) by this.

Texture.

and then once, and then I knew (was known) by no one

Suddenly, you say, sudden

crowded

integrating

interiorate

catapult

integral

This is just what I’d imagined
you knew
of sky, and my lost roads maps
wending our pathways out

overt gardens, overt landscapes scraped

shaped into his gardens

(you do know who I speak of? Ours, and hours)

I hear my voice

(yours)

This is an echo
this echo is this

is echo’s attempt to speak

etc.

I’m (she is) (you are) (we may be becoming) blind,

so

who can only see me
within their hands?

.

Christmas card, by Lisa Pasold

Rewording JKD's Passages & Sean Standish's on the road Meeting three

Here I am trying to spoil all that wanting between landscape and drawing, the usual latent stationary for recycled causes. To complain that we use a language, any of them, to pull us apart, drenching the view with a different syllable. Happy holidays! Glad your envelope isn't here. (Nothing is empty.) What if we say the relationship was successful, simply not permanent. There. Lick sealed this Unicef card’s melting view of the glitter-bedecked polar bear. To find your address will require a Sunday strike-through. Pull that hat hard down for 4 minutes, for 33 seconds. And hold. 

The Poker Wars of the Southwest Coast, Contents Page by sean s

Rewording The poker wars of the South West Coast by Lisa Pasold


Preface: Two Wars Between: the South West Coast
Prologue: The Then-insignificant Port City Will Begin Your Real "Noir"

Chapter One:
The Story's Not Only On the Outside Easily

Interlude: Forgettable Face - Leave a Wish, See You After

Chapter Two:
But your work also has a couple of pennies (which lives in a hotel laundry)

Chapter Three:
laundry will search for an every day melting trough over the robot.  Still

Interlude: Era Like No Other Woman

Chapter Four:
even a special lady just does not fit because of your talent (no husband, no kids, no home)

Chapter Five:
Do not care, and a bold determination to give up job to be true professional

Chapter Six:
"You" Leaves Behind and Neither Is: The Citadel of Poker Playing

Epilogue: Where Purposeful's Most Famous Takes a Job

Porches, by sean s

Rewording Jennifer Dick's Passages.

Place somewhere in my out held hand

nodes of a cage, the (un)physical

beat between bars

because

unable to collapse the pause's wave-form

I, because

to collapse the world's porches

holding out some steps for some steps

verbations   barbarations

a p(a(u)l)se s

becaulmes

mreal

wholmdeang