Issue 8 – Hotlen

Mary Louise Hotlen

Necessary Acts

I like to mix things up,
Rouse the uninspired, the
Melancholy, the
Listless, sleepy sound—to
Startling incongruity

I want the crumpled page, the
Forgotten fragment, the misshapen
Mirror of myself; the
Missing twin; the beads of
Light in an open hand; the
Blood prick of astonishment;

I am seduced by the crooked curve
Of drunken forests, the implied, the
Elliptical accident; its heated
Punctuation swayed in permafrost.