proof that I'm not much of an internet type: I neglect to follow all the links. case in point #1 being that I should link to all of 3rd Factory, Steve Evans' site, it's a pissa resource. I'll get to that soon. #2 being Shanna Compton's links. her DIY site got some stuff about making books and such like, which is an interest here at the Bramhall Bunker. that Alli Warren made Hounds bumps the interest of her effort, excellent book, further. poets: DIY!!! furthermore some Compton poems. index finger points to Mouth Made Out of Trees, as one exemplar. I don't know if it is me and having read this much 17th-19th century English poetry, but I can't read this without hearing an emphasized iambic trudge. I mean that nicely. was Shanna counting the syllables? I'm too tired right now to discover. it's a forceful, definite rhythm, probably built on the repetitions and limited vocabulary. it's nice the way it works, the words shape well to the mouth. to be read aloud, no doubt. the poem seems to be written within confines similar to what Dickinson employed (enjoyed?). the plodding music that was her (ED's) driveshaft commandeered and tweaked. I'm curious to know if Shanna set the form thus (thinking of Aaron Kunin's Mauberly poems) or if this is the music of that moment. the manner allows that music is important, and that meaning, if it exists, proceeds in and after that. am I reading wrongly? this poem is definitive in statement, yet the statements are curious, inward to pictures that are given, and, finally, outward. it teases with images that tease into saturations (from the repetitions), and red shifts of examination. (god keep me from blurbism). words in the wrong place sound just right: that's poetry!