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Questions and AnswersIf I were an artist I would paint flowers.I always order something not on the menu. If I were an artist I would paint children. I sometimes get excited for no reason. I am a special agent of God. I sometimes see people, animals and things that others don't see. I loved my father. I sometimes don't sleep for three or four days. Sometimes I don't tell the truth. I like science. Someone is trying to poison me. I like tall women. I am a special agent of God. --from the Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory test ANSWERS If I were an artist I would paint flowers. Sometimes I get so excited I think I couldn't paint flowers at all, I could only paint children painting flowers, that way I wouldn't get so excited. Or even if I did, I'd have a reason. I like science but I do sometimes not tell the truth. Sometimes I can't sleep for three or four days. I hear sounds other people don't hear but that's because I'm awake and they're asleep. I hear the sounds of pigeon wings folding on the window. I hear God laughing and it sounds like a question with the last word cut off. Sometimes I crawl across the kitchen floor on my belly imagining I'm a mutated salamander and I see things others don't. I see the dust too fine to slide up the cracked plastic pan. I see the dime jthat stuck to the place where the honey dripped teddy bear jar castrated by mice. I see the spatula that fell off the drainboard and got stuck between counter and fridge. I see the corpse of an angel that couldn't see the glass and got smashed trying to fly out from my daily life. I like tall women, the taller the better the ones that are bigger than parks and feed off the treetops compete with giraffes. I loved my father and sometimes I don't always not tell the truth. If I were an artist I would be too excited to paint, I would teach flowers to paint children but I don't get excited, I am a special agent of God, I teach flowers to see and children to bloom. I always order something not on the menu like the waiter or the illegal Salvadorian busboy serve him up on a platter serve him with a clean apron and a garnish of rubbers I am a special agent I am a special agent of God, my mission to sit still and endlessly spew words from my ears I am just another Cassandra mad prophecies clear the sun |
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Issue #6, January, 1999 :
Santa Fe Poetry Broadside.