extremely loud

I read Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer last night. It was nice to see someone else, even if it was a character in the book, that appreciates door knobs. my grandmother and i love door knobs. i used to love to go antiquing with my parents to i could find old doorknobs.. it's so much fun to imagine what they lead to. maybe the bronze one with flower detail lead into the room of a woman with too much time and not enough love, maybe the tarnished silver one with the filled in keyhole lead to man who lost everything and refused to go outside, maybe one lead to what we're all looking for and we just don't know it.



anyways... i'm still trying to figure out information about this on campus publication so i can submit some poetry. but i was listening to Yo La Tengo, now that my record player is here, and wrote a new one.

beard mop on gnome
sends the boy in the white dress
and squeaky badger nails
when whole eye pupils jump rope
with trash can floss
and braided moss hair
with no poison
no not like ergot
they blame
for crucible sights
mane squeeze next to
juice box jokes
there are no more eggs
but a num num room
with kings cell free cell and the
alcoholic gene with
a button fly
and screaming wings with air torsos
so hissingly under
a red ski hat