24 March 2008 | Vol. 8, No. 1
Wedge-shaped Beetle
When I say, "I can feel the toxins in my brain," I know I'm wrong. There are no nerves in the brain. But the sentence itself is toxic. If sunlight can give cancer and cancer is the uncontrolled reproduction of identical cells, I think I am getting it. That dog just cast the shadow of my hand on the wall.
About the author:
Mark Cunningham has poems in recent or forthcoming issues of Practice, Parcel, and Dusie. A chapbook, Second Story, is on the Right Hand Pointing site. Tarpaulin Sky Press will be bringing out a book tentatively titled Body Language, which will be a sort of diptych containing two collections, one titled Body (on parts of the body) and one titled Primer (on numbers and letters).
For further reading:
See the complete list of work by Mark Cunningham at 42opus. Browse the contents of 42opus Vol. 8, No. 1, where "Wedge-shaped Beetle" ran on March 24, 2008. List other work with these same labels: poetry, prose poem.
