Rewrite of an oldie
The Field Guide to North American Birds
As soon as I learned to walk, my mother
took me out of the house in dawdling tours
of our neighborhood skies, me barefoot and her
in pink tennis shoes: the simple kind that
were popular back then, not good for running.
She was trying to introduce me to birds:
the Purple Finch, Red-bellied Woodpecker,
Steller’s Jay, Evening Grosbeak, Northern
Cardinal, Mountain Wren, Yellow-throated Warbler --
the seed-eaters, the sap-suckers and those with
beaks like knives, the better to pry at shrinking grubs.
Their names were exotic to me, full of color,
odd vowels and places I had never been.
Starling sounded like a tiny star, black,
whose call might be a bright scream.
She was creating them, my mother, as she gave
each a name, and explained how different they were
from us: lungs that never exhaled in sighs, bones that floated
hollow, and hearts that beat a thousand times a minute.
It was on this walk under telephone wires
that rang with house wrens
I first saw it: the envy in my mother’s eyes
of things that were free.
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Friday, May 27, 2005
Not to brag, but...
My Poetry
My poetry will kick your ass up and down the block and twice on Sundays. My poetry will smack you upside the head when you try to sass. My poetry will run over your puppy and laugh. My poetry will come late to your party, drink up all the rum and vomit in your boot. My poetry will take your blank checks from your pocket book while you're standing in line to see Star Wars. My poetry will dangle your car keys over your head and make you bark for them. My poetry visits hookers and jumps out the window before paying. My poetry has whores dressed just in high heels, corsets and bloomers chasing it down the cobblestone street. My poetry knows all the best stairwells to hide from the undercover cops. My poetry shares dirty needles. My poetry never uses a condom. My poetry kisses open mouthed, wet and sloppy. My poetry shows up to work one morning with a face tattoo. My poetry can insult your mother in 16 languages. My poetry has a 900 number. My poetry borrows your car without asking and runs it out of gas in a busy intersection. My poetry trips old ladies as they cross the street. My poetry spent some time "inside", and by inside I mean "in jail". My poetry smokes 2 packs a day. My poetry is drunk and obnoxious by noon everyday, and all day long on the weekends. My poetry rides the subway at 4AM bareassed, sits down on all the seats and wiggles. My poetry chews bubblegum flavored tabbaca. My poetry steals people's dirty underwear and stores them in a safe. My poetry lies straight to your face. My poetry can do all of you, all at once, right now.
My Poetry
My poetry will kick your ass up and down the block and twice on Sundays. My poetry will smack you upside the head when you try to sass. My poetry will run over your puppy and laugh. My poetry will come late to your party, drink up all the rum and vomit in your boot. My poetry will take your blank checks from your pocket book while you're standing in line to see Star Wars. My poetry will dangle your car keys over your head and make you bark for them. My poetry visits hookers and jumps out the window before paying. My poetry has whores dressed just in high heels, corsets and bloomers chasing it down the cobblestone street. My poetry knows all the best stairwells to hide from the undercover cops. My poetry shares dirty needles. My poetry never uses a condom. My poetry kisses open mouthed, wet and sloppy. My poetry shows up to work one morning with a face tattoo. My poetry can insult your mother in 16 languages. My poetry has a 900 number. My poetry borrows your car without asking and runs it out of gas in a busy intersection. My poetry trips old ladies as they cross the street. My poetry spent some time "inside", and by inside I mean "in jail". My poetry smokes 2 packs a day. My poetry is drunk and obnoxious by noon everyday, and all day long on the weekends. My poetry rides the subway at 4AM bareassed, sits down on all the seats and wiggles. My poetry chews bubblegum flavored tabbaca. My poetry steals people's dirty underwear and stores them in a safe. My poetry lies straight to your face. My poetry can do all of you, all at once, right now.
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Rewrite:
Qualities of Sugar
it is white and sometimes it is brown
on the kitchen floor it attracts ants
sometimes in the bag during the summer
if it's kept low down on the bottom shelf
you will encounter little black maggots,
already dead, when you open the flap
when you try to wipe it off on your shorts
it clings to your hands and folds into rolls of dirty
white grit in the creases of your palms
it doesn't feel very good if you just put
a tablespoon on your tongue
it can choke you, going down
and then you need some pepsi
your dentist gives you lollipops, which have sugar
when you try to lift the whole bag
by yourself and it rips and spills
into a tiny beach just for dolls
then your mother will be disappointed
it can make her sigh
you often add it on top of bread or cheese
to see if they will taste better
when it is frozen in the form of a green popsicle
you and your brother will hit each other
in the face to get it first
when you mix it with water in a clear glass
it moves about a bit
and disappears
sometimes at night it's all that's left and it's enough
to keep you busy a short while until you realize
the house is empty
and you begin to howl
___________
Wadda' ya think?
Qualities of Sugar
it is white and sometimes it is brown
on the kitchen floor it attracts ants
sometimes in the bag during the summer
if it's kept low down on the bottom shelf
you will encounter little black maggots,
already dead, when you open the flap
when you try to wipe it off on your shorts
it clings to your hands and folds into rolls of dirty
white grit in the creases of your palms
it doesn't feel very good if you just put
a tablespoon on your tongue
it can choke you, going down
and then you need some pepsi
your dentist gives you lollipops, which have sugar
when you try to lift the whole bag
by yourself and it rips and spills
into a tiny beach just for dolls
then your mother will be disappointed
it can make her sigh
you often add it on top of bread or cheese
to see if they will taste better
when it is frozen in the form of a green popsicle
you and your brother will hit each other
in the face to get it first
when you mix it with water in a clear glass
it moves about a bit
and disappears
sometimes at night it's all that's left and it's enough
to keep you busy a short while until you realize
the house is empty
and you begin to howl
___________
Wadda' ya think?
Monday, May 23, 2005
Saturday, May 21, 2005
Just a teaser:
this is some of the smut you'll encounter in SAFE WORD.
In the elevator
going up to your apartment
you jam your hand down the front of my pants
and I'm not wearing underwear.
This is sudden and makes me wet
but I think you
close your eyes not to see me
but to see yourself.
You're living
in your own private
porno flick.
I'm not starring.
I'm just an extra.
I'm just along for the ride.
You can buy it here.
this is some of the smut you'll encounter in SAFE WORD.
In the elevator
going up to your apartment
you jam your hand down the front of my pants
and I'm not wearing underwear.
This is sudden and makes me wet
but I think you
close your eyes not to see me
but to see yourself.
You're living
in your own private
porno flick.
I'm not starring.
I'm just an extra.
I'm just along for the ride.
You can buy it here.
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
I Love Cats
how they crown
me cuddle my cheeks
how one thinks
she's a hat
even the tiny dark one who
hisses and slaps and runs
cries for something or someone
alone facing the corner as if
there's a phone there as if
someone's in the other corner
listening
even her as she lifts her tail
a palsied stick sprays
bitter piss over the white
covers the white pillows so
no matter how much bleach
faint piss colored continents
ride the white ocean of my bed
even her with the others their scrabbling
attempts to bring me down to
trip me hauling left right
at the ankles of the giant I am
even the old lady with her patches of
white over black like fleeting clouds
the vomit she hangs
from the doorways and chairs her eyes
so big if you look too long they
take up the whole room sweep
themselves into your lungs and brain
then she startles you with a
quivering short cry
even her and the kitten that won't stop
even then I still
even then always I still
how they crown
me cuddle my cheeks
how one thinks
she's a hat
even the tiny dark one who
hisses and slaps and runs
cries for something or someone
alone facing the corner as if
there's a phone there as if
someone's in the other corner
listening
even her as she lifts her tail
a palsied stick sprays
bitter piss over the white
covers the white pillows so
no matter how much bleach
faint piss colored continents
ride the white ocean of my bed
even her with the others their scrabbling
attempts to bring me down to
trip me hauling left right
at the ankles of the giant I am
even the old lady with her patches of
white over black like fleeting clouds
the vomit she hangs
from the doorways and chairs her eyes
so big if you look too long they
take up the whole room sweep
themselves into your lungs and brain
then she startles you with a
quivering short cry
even her and the kitten that won't stop
even then I still
even then always I still
Monday, May 16, 2005
SMUT was a great success tonight! Everybody laughed at the right moments, and they applauded after every poem, which was really gratifying. I haven't read with a mic for quite some time, so it was a little freaky having my voice boom back at me after a 2 second pause, but I got used to it quickly. I didn't rush it, which I often do when I'm stressed.
I really want to thank Desiree Burch, who was the wonderful hostess, and quite the comic in her own right. She said stuff about trying to write and procrastination that was spot on. I can't wait until her book comes out. (There is a book, right? It'd be a waste to throw all that biting insight away.)
And here I am, reading, in case you didn't believe me.
I really want to thank Desiree Burch, who was the wonderful hostess, and quite the comic in her own right. She said stuff about trying to write and procrastination that was spot on. I can't wait until her book comes out. (There is a book, right? It'd be a waste to throw all that biting insight away.)
And here I am, reading, in case you didn't believe me.
Saturday, May 14, 2005
Lying in the Grass One Day
Once again Carl experienced hurt from insect bites, back to the French and tear the
TeilhardDe Chardin: These creatures secrete an addicting fluid grass
useful remedy for insect bites and is used in lemon-scented cleaning
disturbed, they will secrete a foul- smelling orange-colored fluid that can
Some persons secrete or shed virus even though they may not be experiencing an outbreak. I am allergic to lots of things (grass, insect bites, etc.
3 front leg of an insect and bones in the leg of a Grass. Grass. Grass
The ends of both axons and dendrites may secrete neurotransmitters.
The tips of these hairs secrete a clear,
oily fluid that collects in drops
from a family of compounds that plants
use to repel insect attacks
and blood, cerebrospinal fluid and lesion biopsy material for BA. Reference socks, when walking through areas of long grass. Insect
ñîth, non-flying insect. ñôm, A, read (e reader, c source)
push, a bodily
fluid, excluding blood. pushd, A, excrete, secrete (e person,
Ticks secrete a cement-like substance that helps them adhere firmly to THE CHARLOTTE OBSERVER INSECT REPELLENT STOPS THE BITING, BUT BE
Forsaking his harem, he waddles back
into the long grass far away from the beach,
The insect world presents us with many examples
of this kind
When humans come in contact with infested grass or other vegetation,
While feeding, the larvae secrete a fluid which causes intense itching
-
New Poetry Fun, courtesy of Toph.
Go here.
Once again Carl experienced hurt from insect bites, back to the French and tear the
TeilhardDe Chardin: These creatures secrete an addicting fluid grass
useful remedy for insect bites and is used in lemon-scented cleaning
disturbed, they will secrete a foul- smelling orange-colored fluid that can
Some persons secrete or shed virus even though they may not be experiencing an outbreak. I am allergic to lots of things (grass, insect bites, etc.
3 front leg of an insect and bones in the leg of a Grass. Grass. Grass
The ends of both axons and dendrites may secrete neurotransmitters.
The tips of these hairs secrete a clear,
oily fluid that collects in drops
from a family of compounds that plants
use to repel insect attacks
and blood, cerebrospinal fluid and lesion biopsy material for BA. Reference socks, when walking through areas of long grass. Insect
ñîth, non-flying insect. ñôm, A, read (e reader, c source)
push, a bodily
fluid, excluding blood. pushd, A, excrete, secrete (e person,
Ticks secrete a cement-like substance that helps them adhere firmly to THE CHARLOTTE OBSERVER INSECT REPELLENT STOPS THE BITING, BUT BE
Forsaking his harem, he waddles back
into the long grass far away from the beach,
The insect world presents us with many examples
of this kind
When humans come in contact with infested grass or other vegetation,
While feeding, the larvae secrete a fluid which causes intense itching
-
New Poetry Fun, courtesy of Toph.
Go here.
Thursday, May 12, 2005
advertisements for myself, and others
Okay guys, this is the last time, I promise, that I'm going to be hawking my reading Monday at Galapagos, you know, the Smut reading, the one with poetry so toxic it'll burn the paint off your car, make you quiver and cause your teeth to crumble like so much blue cheese.
MONDAY MAY 16TH
CHRISTINE HAMM IS READING AT SMUT, THE DIRTY READING/PERFORMANCE SERIES AT GALAPAGOS.
YOU CAN GET TO GALAPAGOS THUSLY: Take the L to Bedford Ave. (1st stop in Brooklyn), exit on N. 7th and walk down one block to N. 6th, take a right and walk 2 1/2 blocks over. We're between Wythe and Kent on the left side. 70 North 6th Street, between Kent and Wythe,
Williamsburg, Brooklyn, NY 11211 718 782-5188
THE FESTIVITIES START AT 8-ISH
FREE! REALLY!
I WILL BE READING FROM "SAFE WORD", WHICH MAY BE PURCHASED HERE http://www.lulu.com/content/119145 , OR AT THE READING FOR A DISCOUNT.
______________________________
On to advertisements for others:
As some of you know, I recently became an editorial assistant for Lungfull! journal, and I'm trying to get some poets to advertise in the back. The reading audience is 99% poets, and it would be an excellent place to pimp your chapbook, or book or poem. The rates are terrif, and we have a readership of about 3,000.
These are the rates for ads at Lungfull!
Lungfull ad rates
ADVERTISING RATES 2005
Single Insertion:
Full Page 7”x5.5” $110
Half Page 3.5”x5.5” $65
Quarter Page 3.5”x2.75” $40
Multiple Insertions:
2x 3x
Full Page $190 $270
Half Page $110 $160
Quarter Page $70 $95
Deadlines
Issue 14
Reservations: June 31, 2005
Camera Ready Close July 15, 2005
Pub Date: August 15, 2005
Your ad can be provided to us as camera-ready hard copy, emaialed or on
Mac formatted disk. For an additional fee, LUNGFULL! can design an ad
to your specifications.
Contact: Brendan Lorber
646.298.7317
lungfull@rcn.com
__________________________
This is Lungfull!'s website, if you want to check it out:http://www.lungfull.org
So let me or Brendan know.
Okay guys, this is the last time, I promise, that I'm going to be hawking my reading Monday at Galapagos, you know, the Smut reading, the one with poetry so toxic it'll burn the paint off your car, make you quiver and cause your teeth to crumble like so much blue cheese.
MONDAY MAY 16TH
CHRISTINE HAMM IS READING AT SMUT, THE DIRTY READING/PERFORMANCE SERIES AT GALAPAGOS.
YOU CAN GET TO GALAPAGOS THUSLY: Take the L to Bedford Ave. (1st stop in Brooklyn), exit on N. 7th and walk down one block to N. 6th, take a right and walk 2 1/2 blocks over. We're between Wythe and Kent on the left side. 70 North 6th Street, between Kent and Wythe,
Williamsburg, Brooklyn, NY 11211 718 782-5188
THE FESTIVITIES START AT 8-ISH
FREE! REALLY!
I WILL BE READING FROM "SAFE WORD", WHICH MAY BE PURCHASED HERE http://www.lulu.com/content/119145 , OR AT THE READING FOR A DISCOUNT.
______________________________
On to advertisements for others:
As some of you know, I recently became an editorial assistant for Lungfull! journal, and I'm trying to get some poets to advertise in the back. The reading audience is 99% poets, and it would be an excellent place to pimp your chapbook, or book or poem. The rates are terrif, and we have a readership of about 3,000.
These are the rates for ads at Lungfull!
Lungfull ad rates
ADVERTISING RATES 2005
Single Insertion:
Full Page 7”x5.5” $110
Half Page 3.5”x5.5” $65
Quarter Page 3.5”x2.75” $40
Multiple Insertions:
2x 3x
Full Page $190 $270
Half Page $110 $160
Quarter Page $70 $95
Deadlines
Issue 14
Reservations: June 31, 2005
Camera Ready Close July 15, 2005
Pub Date: August 15, 2005
Your ad can be provided to us as camera-ready hard copy, emaialed or on
Mac formatted disk. For an additional fee, LUNGFULL! can design an ad
to your specifications.
Contact: Brendan Lorber
646.298.7317
lungfull@rcn.com
__________________________
This is Lungfull!'s website, if you want to check it out:http://www.lungfull.org
So let me or Brendan know.
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
Qualities of Sugar
it is white and sometimes it is brown
on the kitchen floor it attracts ants
sometimes in the bag during the summer if it's kept low down on the bottom shelf you will encounter little black maggots, already dead, when you open the flap
it scratches your hands like you have been at the beach
when you try to wipe it off on your shorts it clings to your hands
and folds into little rolls of gritty dirty white in the creases
of your palms and between your fingers
it doesn't feel very good if you just put a tablespoon on your tongue
it can choke you, going down and then you need some pepsi
when you mix it with water in a clear glass it moves about a bit
and disappears
when you try to lift the whole bag by yourself and it rips and spills
like a tiny beach just for dolls on the tile floor then your mother will
be disappointed it can make her sigh
she lets you pour it into the bowl as she whirls the beater once it has been measured into a cup
you often add it on top of bread or cheese to see if they will taste better
you can spoon it on spoiling strawberries in a cup and then mash with a fork a few times then use that to fill shortcakes
when it is frozen in the form of a green popsicle and you and your brother will hit each other in the face to get it first
if you climb up on the counter you can feel it grit beneath your knees you may carefully knock over the jelly jar and splatter red sauce on the table leg
your dentist gives you lollipops, which have sugar
sometimes you can feel it eating away at your molars like tiny tiny
saws at the gum line turning your teeth black, diminishing them
there is nothing like a chocolate bar with it nothing in the world
sometimes at night it's all that's left and it's enough to keep you busy
a short while until your realize the house is empty
and you begin to howl
it is white and sometimes it is brown
on the kitchen floor it attracts ants
sometimes in the bag during the summer if it's kept low down on the bottom shelf you will encounter little black maggots, already dead, when you open the flap
it scratches your hands like you have been at the beach
when you try to wipe it off on your shorts it clings to your hands
and folds into little rolls of gritty dirty white in the creases
of your palms and between your fingers
it doesn't feel very good if you just put a tablespoon on your tongue
it can choke you, going down and then you need some pepsi
when you mix it with water in a clear glass it moves about a bit
and disappears
when you try to lift the whole bag by yourself and it rips and spills
like a tiny beach just for dolls on the tile floor then your mother will
be disappointed it can make her sigh
she lets you pour it into the bowl as she whirls the beater once it has been measured into a cup
you often add it on top of bread or cheese to see if they will taste better
you can spoon it on spoiling strawberries in a cup and then mash with a fork a few times then use that to fill shortcakes
when it is frozen in the form of a green popsicle and you and your brother will hit each other in the face to get it first
if you climb up on the counter you can feel it grit beneath your knees you may carefully knock over the jelly jar and splatter red sauce on the table leg
your dentist gives you lollipops, which have sugar
sometimes you can feel it eating away at your molars like tiny tiny
saws at the gum line turning your teeth black, diminishing them
there is nothing like a chocolate bar with it nothing in the world
sometimes at night it's all that's left and it's enough to keep you busy
a short while until your realize the house is empty
and you begin to howl
Monday, May 09, 2005
drafty (in here)
The Mall
Surely this is what heaven
is like, soft music coming
from everywhere and nowhere
all at once, fountains plashing
gently in the distance, discount
massages with your clothes on
by people who don't really speak
your language.
Stores (little rooms really)
each dedicated to a different need,
the need to have your lipstick smell
like blueberries, the need
to be very clean, the need to free
yourself from pain and dental decay,
the need to sleep without dreams, the need
to wake up refreshed and sweet-smelling,
all your farts contained in a recyclable,
disposable bottle, the need to travel
to foreign lands like India and Mexico,
the need to eat at McDonald's.
Everything gleams at the mall, even you.
The security guards are slow,
larger than life fathers, fathers who have
all the answers and don't drink.
Your mother is there too, the pony with the slot
for quarters outside the sunglass palace.
If you look at her just right,
your lids half-closed,
you can see her bones gleam beneath her skin
as she rocks you gently, rocks you
and then asks for more.
The Mall
Surely this is what heaven
is like, soft music coming
from everywhere and nowhere
all at once, fountains plashing
gently in the distance, discount
massages with your clothes on
by people who don't really speak
your language.
Stores (little rooms really)
each dedicated to a different need,
the need to have your lipstick smell
like blueberries, the need
to be very clean, the need to free
yourself from pain and dental decay,
the need to sleep without dreams, the need
to wake up refreshed and sweet-smelling,
all your farts contained in a recyclable,
disposable bottle, the need to travel
to foreign lands like India and Mexico,
the need to eat at McDonald's.
Everything gleams at the mall, even you.
The security guards are slow,
larger than life fathers, fathers who have
all the answers and don't drink.
Your mother is there too, the pony with the slot
for quarters outside the sunglass palace.
If you look at her just right,
your lids half-closed,
you can see her bones gleam beneath her skin
as she rocks you gently, rocks you
and then asks for more.
Thursday, May 05, 2005
I enjoy being a girl
pink feathers, pink lipstick, pink toenails, pink rings, pink blush, pink eyelashes, pink skirts, pink thongs, pink flip flops, pink shoelaces, pink combs, pink watches, pink brassieres, pink bandaids, pink sweaters, pink headbands, pink sunglasses, pink conditioner, pink shampoo, pink hairspray, pink toothbrush, pink toothpaste, pink deodorant, pink car, pink house, pink lawn, pink swimming pool, pink tampons, pink feminine deodorant, pink douche, pink KY jelly, pink condoms, pink vibrator, but pull the string, unzip the zipper and turn me inside out and I’m red, red, red the color of a cannibal’s mouth.
Which relates to a very interesting blog I just discovered: my year in pink.
pink feathers, pink lipstick, pink toenails, pink rings, pink blush, pink eyelashes, pink skirts, pink thongs, pink flip flops, pink shoelaces, pink combs, pink watches, pink brassieres, pink bandaids, pink sweaters, pink headbands, pink sunglasses, pink conditioner, pink shampoo, pink hairspray, pink toothbrush, pink toothpaste, pink deodorant, pink car, pink house, pink lawn, pink swimming pool, pink tampons, pink feminine deodorant, pink douche, pink KY jelly, pink condoms, pink vibrator, but pull the string, unzip the zipper and turn me inside out and I’m red, red, red the color of a cannibal’s mouth.
Which relates to a very interesting blog I just discovered: my year in pink.
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
Enough self-promotion (oh, wait: that's what this whole blog is about, anyway) However, I would be remiss not to mention the great literary events I attended recently.
The Zinc reading series this past Sunday at the Zinc bar, sponsored by Lungfull featuring Brendan Lorber of Lungfull, and Eric Lorberer of Rain Taxi, with a whole bunch of other Brendans and Brandons thrown in there to make it confusing, was fantastic. I'm not usually mesmerized at these kinds of readings, and usually just zone out and start deciding on my outfit for the next day while I'm listening, but these guys were great! I could have heard them for at least a couple hours more.
The Spire Magazine launch party for issue 5(? I think). I finally got to meet Shelly Reed, the editor and founder, who is so nice and charming and unassuming, despite her considerable poetic discernment and critical skills. She was so sweet she managed to coax me into editing a book of fiction for one of her authors. (!) I was flattered but, oh my god, have I taken on enough lately with the classes I'm teaching and taking and the internship! or what?
The Zinc reading series this past Sunday at the Zinc bar, sponsored by Lungfull featuring Brendan Lorber of Lungfull, and Eric Lorberer of Rain Taxi, with a whole bunch of other Brendans and Brandons thrown in there to make it confusing, was fantastic. I'm not usually mesmerized at these kinds of readings, and usually just zone out and start deciding on my outfit for the next day while I'm listening, but these guys were great! I could have heard them for at least a couple hours more.
The Spire Magazine launch party for issue 5(? I think). I finally got to meet Shelly Reed, the editor and founder, who is so nice and charming and unassuming, despite her considerable poetic discernment and critical skills. She was so sweet she managed to coax me into editing a book of fiction for one of her authors. (!) I was flattered but, oh my god, have I taken on enough lately with the classes I'm teaching and taking and the internship! or what?
Monday, May 02, 2005
Here's the official "press release" for my reading in two weeks:
The SMUT reading series. For more info, go here:
http://millersfarm.net/eastsideoral/resources.html#galapogos
May 16, Monday, 8PM: I'll be reading from my latest (self-published) chapbook, the
porntastic Safe Word and also this piece
-- you may not want to eat before you read it --
another how to guide for idiots.
For directions to Galapagos, go here.
I hope you can make it. (hey, it's free!)
The SMUT reading series. For more info, go here:
http://millersfarm.net/eastsideoral/resources.html#galapogos
May 16, Monday, 8PM: I'll be reading from my latest (self-published) chapbook, the
porntastic Safe Word and also this piece
-- you may not want to eat before you read it --
another how to guide for idiots.
For directions to Galapagos, go here.
I hope you can make it. (hey, it's free!)
Sunday, May 01, 2005
Mike of Stick Poet Superhero just posted a really flattering review of Safe Word. I'm so happy I could scream! Okay, and I'm also glad he got the point of "Animal Husbandry".
I'm sort of speechless right now. Thank you, Mike.
I'm sort of speechless right now. Thank you, Mike.
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