SUBJECT>Re: Drawing Stars POSTER>Farouhk Wachablahlila EMAIL> DATE>1110854815 IP_ADDRESS>c-24-6-249-176.client.comcast.net PASSWORD>aaCxnjFbPHtfc PREVIOUS>84781 NEXT> 84809 IMAGE> LINKNAME> LINKURL>

: At the Macaroni Grill, the paper tablecloth
: serves
: as our night pallet. I teach the kids my method
: in broken blue
: (not sky) crayon – up down over over down. Soon
: we have
: an army filling time until the saucy noodles
: march in.

: I once filled the margins of my boredom with
: sloppy stars.
: My teachers taught me nothing. Moby Woolf,
: Virginia Dick,
: the angle of an arched angel. My stars had
: wings, faces,
: until everything ran blue. Or black. Color
: blind,
: they asked me what I saw in pictures. The
: number 23.
: A bicycle underwater. Moon stars breaking up.

: I trace my fingernail along the skin of your
: back. It leaves
: white lines, updownoveroverdown, that
: disappear. I give
: the ghost stars names, – tail of the hen, the
: armpit
: of the mighty one. Give me all your love. Let
: me sleep again. ****

losing crits

quick quick

testing testing