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Exquisite Corpse
Issue 8A Journal of Letters and Life

ISSUE 8 HOME || BROKEN NEWS || CRITIQUES || CYBER BAG || EC CHAIR || FICCIONES || THE FOREIGN DESK
GALLERY || LETTERS || POESY || REVIEWS || SERIALS || STAGE & SCREEN
Two Poems
by Robert Trammell
Author's Links

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Birds In My Computer
and when I go on-line
a lion roars. All the jungle
sounds when I turn it off.


Words

Her words hammer
me. I slice her up with mine.
The judge measures the evidence
and gives me 99 years
for talking too much.
Paper Cut
I wrote Words
and read it to her
while she bathed
& when I was done
the paper flew
from my hands at her
slicing her skin.
She started to bleed
and as the water got redder
she said Now look what you
have done. I will die from
paper cuts and I said the
words cut too.
Dead Squirrels
The streets are crawling
with squirrels this year.
The trees are full of them.
They try to climb telephone poles,
fall
and run under cars.
The streets are full of dead squirrels.
A feast waiting
for the heads to be boiled
the skull cracked open,
the brains spooned
out and eaten
.


ISSUE 8 HOME || BROKEN NEWS || CRITIQUES || CYBER BAG || EC CHAIR || FICCIONES || THE FOREIGN DESK
GALLERY || LETTERS || POESY || REVIEWS || SERIALS || STAGE & SCREEN
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