Read a poem by another poet written
on the same day:

while hunting shells by the seashore
Sally found a rock
that shimmered with rough winds
   smooth as paper as
      her conscience

trans

trans   mog

i could even deceive the
   uncrazy looks the
      fountains of blushing the
small parking meters
   wrap me
for without the twists i cannot
      touch the finer points

there is a theory that
   a spaceship on the straightest
      trajectory
will touch all the stars

Sally found a rock on the
   seashore
she found a star
   the klaxon's sound died off
   into streets of cold contempt
and there could be no returning
   once found,
      the stars must be shipped across
   the black void of her mind.

trans   mo   gri   fried

   more   grits   fried

more   grits   fried   back home
      than any other home i got

she hates it when i say
"where's the ice cream at"
less because of the grammar
   style
more because of it won't be found

fact is nothing sweet
will live long in this house
   not when the chocolate
   is attacked nightly