1.

I chose a photograph. Red stalks bent to die in cold
names inscribed down a corridor lined with hissing
mirrors, hatecomp prison evoked a pretext for your
memory theater Q: ugh! dear dr. gardos, I was watching
an episode of Ally McBeal and one of the lawyers was
what do you enjoy about your gender position? A: boys
in their summer suits play tag at the interstices of a
serpent crystallized online :-( so if you come up with
anything I really think you trailed me through the
night, the woods, the killing fields evaporating off
the taut surface of a belly rises at the juncture of
primitive fish, I have the name x_omega_667 because
omega is from longheads scrawled in disappearing ink
beneath these elm trees Q: Myself and a few others are
wanting to spend sometime this summer traveling middle
Tennessee and West Tennessee and Kentucky visiting
“Haunted” places talking what the heck is going on! A:
white mists encircling May 9 1976? Where a dead
professor picket fence decoys fake epiphanies and he
says in his honey-thick drawl, “And he says in his
honey-thick drawl, ‘Something’s lurking in the
woods.’.” Right, those little heart-shaped boxes—