Dec. 4, 2007

I am the 'o' in potato
I am the mime of the squirrel's shadow
I am the deleterious effect of the pebble's spite
I am convinced I am no
I am the hollow knuckle of a bird's bone
I am a congeries of whims
I do not feign to know
I am the whore in the bellows
I am a chink in the wall
I avoid small choices in a single bound
I affect to know nothing
I am the craning little stick that beats the drum
I am Finn's thumb
I am the 'mor-' in '-pheme'
(I am the inbetween of 'mor-' and '-pheme')
I am the gold in Nausicaa's tresses
I mean no harm to any one
I stir the bed of coals
I assert the wherewithal of mauve
I suck the lichen off of rocks and bark of trees
I do not seem to know
I follow the void up, then down
I turn the hayrick into chaos
I am the interminable smell [itch] of crotch
I hang like a navel hernia
I crane my neck to turn a cock
I slake the thirst of a glacier floe
I marvel at the yes in no
I turn the ankle of my toe
I seem to remember in forget
I grate the cheese in watercress
I will not deign to heat it though
I cannot opt to check the flow
My mind is always in a knot
I've half a mind to let it go
But it crops up in cogito
The tourniquet was disabused
of all I ever had of news
I span the belly of Mother Earth
I furnish her with all the breezes
I make the kettle's being hot
I forestall the coming weather
I retract the woodpecker's tongue