a grouse with completely feathered feet



The members of the board of Ptarmigan, upon assembly, have decided to announce the Toothpaste Poetry Project. Attention! To determine the matrices between dental hygenie products, and the purchase/creation thereof, and the development of a poetics that might be considered in any given day an "experimental" one. Products, after all, are placed in our hands every day (or...are they?) even if you write poeticsly. It grieves me to think that x-poets' last purchase of tube socks, last fast food experience, last embarrassing moment with a person that owns a truck, has NOT be detailed in minerals. So we will start small. Hey, I like x-poets, Quail came up with that one good job Quail! We will try this experiment. If you write x-poetry, please indicate which toothpaste you use, and/or toothpaste you would LIKE to use.

Here are samples!

+Burned snail shells, salt, and honey

+Ground up oyster and whelk shells

+Bicarbonate of soda

+Coal dust, finely minced

+One (1) page of new american writing, burned in the bathroom sink (dry), ground to a fine powder

Hippie toothpaste

Hippie toothpaste co-opted by large toothpaste manufacturer

{{{Now, the ensuing tooth-pastes are a bit more critical to our discussion; namely, does the consumption of them preclude, obviate, or trump the development of an experimental poetics? How about the Fresh Mouth Guilt(tm)? Known to occur, don't think it doesn't! In the Minnesota School of Poetics, e.g., they have been inoculated from this affliction from the generous help of the State, although with recent budget cuts who knows what the School will now be "entitled" to? }}}}

{{{The following toothpaste are also, well, I don't want to say tainted, by the fact that one often finds them in supermarkets and superdrugs. But this is supposed to be an objective test, so ignore this}}}




Gleem (not to be confused with Gleek, Wonder Twins monkey)


Cool Mint Listerine Tartar Control Gel

Mentadent Crystal Ice

Oral-B Rugrats Paste

Please comment below. End of project. Upon commenting, I wish that Hypergolem, say, would be able to provide snacks. Like a blood drive. But our funds are short.


And yet, this is the most terrifying thing I've ever done...


The two words between "ptarmigan" in the dictionary are "psywar" and "PT boat."


Coming from the Scots Gaelic,


And then I woke as if from a dream, and everything was domestic, and regionalist, as I prefer; the Minnesotan sun shining on all but making nothing warmer, the chrome toaster assembling pieces of bread, the writing desk I inherited from my great grandfather that held only a calculator with no writing instrument to see; and I thought to myself that the domestic sphere, such as a mirrorball set in a garden to scare away birds, was all a person ever needed, as if the coastal accretions of the aristocratic chanticleers held any bearings on what I hold dear; which is to say, I hold dear the need that nothing outside the walls of my split-level need ever touch me, for all that nourishes exists within shouting distance, as it once existed in the mid-west, when easterners pioneered and become somethingelse, and when my house used to be a pond; and so the owls at night listen to my hope chest, though it says nothing, for I myself am the deepening brook, the glacial smudge, and no one in my household is a pontifex, except perhaps for the dog, and what would in another era be named as a xanadu of self-absorption is now a great comfort, for wraiths exist, palpably, in the little holes of memory, as they once did, and how could it ever be worth the effort to exhume these revenants, when they want to let you know is that houses will disassemble, families will die, the very charter a person makes with the world is fraught with a reversion so total that it blows past the garden of innocence, the tree of knowledge, the naming, to a place where nothing is really happening, nor a place, and in fact the fool who thought for a lark to start a seven-day panoply ends up moving to something else a little more constructive?



go and get a fork. chief is puzzled, but he The American says, “Gimme The New Yorker chief is puzzled, but he The chief gives the New Yorker. a fork!” The gimme a FORK!” a fork. “The New save the queen!” and Yorker said, “Gimme a fork.” says, “Gimme a fork The chief is puzzled, takes his brains out. him a pistol, he done, and he was skinned Queen!” and kaboom. It was The chief is puzzled, but “Gimme a fork.” The The Englishman says, “God sends a native to chief is puzzled, but he but nonetheless complies. his brains out. The chief is puzzled, but I ask?” The palio indiane.” The New Yorker said: “Gimme he shrugs and gives him bit puzzled by this request, and gives him a fork. “Gimme a fork” the man he shrugs and gives New Yorker pulls the trigger. fork. The New The New Yorker says, American says, “Gimme a fork.” The New Yorker took shrugs and gives him a a fork and be quick puzzled, but he gave The American takes his chief is puzzled, but The tribal elder said: “A The New Yorker says, violently all over his body, a frigging fork, Gimme queen!” and blows his The Samoan says, “Gimme a a fork. The The American shoote himself. “Gimme a fork.” The WHY THEY HATE US The Vietnameseman blows his brains him a fork. With a puzzled expression the a fork.” The chief is puzzled, but American takes the fork and New Yorker says, “Gimme fork. The Texan takes said: “Gimme a FoRK.” a FoRK.” The American takes the fork man hands her a fork. The cannibals looked at puzzled, but he shrugs shoots himself. The New The chief is a starts jabbing himself all over. but he shrugs and shrugs and gives him a but he shrugs and gives and gives him a fork. a fork!” The New about it, I don’t like The New Yorker he shrugs and gives The chief is puzzled, brains out. The American The chief is puzzled, but The chief is and begins stabbing himself a fork. The Greek chief is puzzled but The New Yorker says, “Yeah, creating bleeding puncture wounds. points it at his head, says, “Gimme a fork.” says, ‘God save the Dutchman takes his brains out. fork. The American takes blows his brains out. himself to death. The Englishman The chief turns to FORK!! Can ya hear and his skin made “Gimme a fork.” The and kaboom! blows his their faces. The Canadian A FORK, already, a gives him a fork. The The American says, The New Yorker says, brains out. The Irishman him a fork. The fork.” The chief a fork!” The chief The cannibals did so. the fork and started Yorker gives him a old me now? Just The Irishman takes his SO MUCH The New New Yorker explained, and a The Dutchman says, “Gimme brains out. The chief brains out. The Greek to wait.” The and gives him a said, “Just gimme a fork.” tribal elder said: “A FoRK?” shrugs and gives him a The Texan says, is puzzled, but shrugs Yorker kills himself. The The Newfie says, “Gimme blows his brains out. FoRK? What is FoRK, may New Yorker shoots himself. The chief was FoRK was provided. “ says, “Gimme a fork.” Yorker said, “Gimme a fork.” his brains out. him a fork. is puzzled, but he very confused look on “Gimme a fork.” out. The New Yorker says, into a canoe. The the Canadian man with a says, with complete disdain. Vietnameseman says “Gimme a fork.” a fork. The queen!’ and shoots himself. says “God save the pistol. The Newfie takes the man a fork. chief is puzzled, but he “Gimme a fork.” The fork. jabbing himself. The shrugs and gives him a “Gimme a fork.” The fork. The Samoan is puzzled, but he shrugs he shrugs and gives him shrugs and gives him he shrugs and gives him

A posting about the aforementioned Lizzie Maguire movie. It's a good thing everyone in the town square is reading this

Loosey-goosey here . Springtime in the summer makes me happy, even if it's someplace else.



Well, duh, Evening guffaws...

'pon Hypergolem's recommendations, added some new minerals. Have received a legion of complaints that minerals aren't divided by sedimentary, igneous, or metamorphic. But I'm not a gem collector, a gemologist! I can't afford to have afoot in the SOUL the nice little case with 64+ glass encasements so that no Mineral Touches Another. E.g., if one aficianado of [scientifiction/poesis] happens to accidentally stumble within a mineral of [poesis/scientifiction], then all hope I hope will not be lost. And perhaps some gained...


When Quail was vice president, she could go bowling any time she wanted. It was a special bowling alley right inside her bunker. & she could eat all the cotton candy she wanted to! Great job!

there was a extra-super-secret Rose's that she could shop (NASCAR t-shirts circa 1992, New Kids on the Block sleeping bags) till she dropped. And drop she did.


are in Heaven. But wait. I

anything for me, but you don't I am the perfect writer's notebook. I am just peerless. You would pay have to as the perfect width, so pretty and am from Spain. You will beautifully retro. Open waste. It is the beginning of me. My spiral binding lets you me. My pages are place me flat, but unlike regular spiral notebooks, always. I am green with snails and I'm reasonable priced. Once I'm yours, you my pages never catch. I am of me. Open me again. Look never be able to find another one needs to be worthy of me. at the first page. Each word you write are in Heaven. But wait. I the end. Think carefully. There's no space to inviting. Your sentences will flow across the right size so you carry me with you


The last fifty rotary phones in the world have been rounded up for questioning.

The last twenty roadside picnic tables.

The first chickenhuman.

The pentultimate mermot. THIS ISN'T A MERLOT! This isn't a merlot. The room-time continuum has been breached, caption. Or should I say capt'n.

Crushed on one side by a dialectic and the other by biophages, zeroing in on hobbies.

The last one hundred hobbies (incl. horses).

Jean Claude Nostrodamme says:


re on what the fuck happened to me.

I mean I tried to post but see I had this concussion! And the words weren't coming out right. A bicycle--the Kitt of bicycles--slammed into me upon a mntn trail. It thought I was an international jewel thief.

"No no the thief went that a way!" But I think it came out as "Oh oh why is this hospital suffering me so badly?"

Then: "Hand me my fucking blog!" The nurse reluctantly removed it from the back of my teeth, in the little concave groove where my wisdom used to be.

All right now that I have my web-log back I can let the healing begin--in earnest!

AlSo...Quail died but she was back in a couple of hours. She just couldn't stay away.


mean, Lizzie can't fall for Gordo, can she? Gordo, just watch 16 Candles, or perhaps Biodome. Pray to the patron saints of mesomorphs, use obeah against Ethan. Learn to cook. Boil the woodants' nest.


And just like that.

The sun is in a performative funk, the sun's blog will burn your eyes, the sun's flu is a sunspot, the sun's cold breath is an iceberg in a driveway in a lawn, leading to a house with sun entering the frosted.