THE YES SPOON Lavish in bubbles and draw your arm under, waving away the slice of a warm knife. Exuberance: find in your glitter-warm the moment of pain, that circus of curtains untied and delivered. Is that why you want to be chafing, reddened - to remember the blue of cold caramelized flames, the firework moments? Madness, mirth, mmmmfood, the more and minute, miniature words but the M sound of grandness, the hissing, the froth, all the sounds of mimesis: in them do you give your metaphors murmurs? Feed yourself doll-sized crises in order to photograph headwinds. Written in 2007. Poetry