RULE ONE, I have to grab one of the books closest to me, go to page 56, type the fifth line and the next two to five lines that follow.
RULE TWO, I have to pick five people who love books and who could receive the Bookworm award with honor.
So happens it's Phil Hall's White Porcupine, which I'll be reviewing next month for The Rover.
our giant muskrat soul kept falling apart
into butchered townships aflame with primal colour
& the spit of the grease was the shared song
of the brush & the pen slicing through forgiveness
"our giant muskrat soul"? Well, this particular part of the poem is about the poet's relation to Norval Morisseau. Condensation of language, I'll say.
Let's see --
Zach Wells (would he bother?)
Peter Pereira (has he gotten one already?)
Joe Massey (would he deign?)
Indran Amirthanayagam (love that name, longest on my blogroll)
RW Watkins (would he find a haiku long enough?)
No, I won't ask them directly. They'll have to find this virtual tap on the shoulder here.