Spr/Sum 04

16. Five Sentences with Nouns


Dark wet town we roll through, four, the horn.

Tree! She says with a finger extended, some hoops torn.

My love eating ice makes a crease in his memory to forgive me, laughter.

When mothers are funny the children are baffled, later, embarrassed,           three chairs.

Fault I took in my mouth like a train goes into the night, the ocean.


Julie Carr lives in Oakland, California where she is a pursuing a Ph.D. in English Literature from UC Berkeley. Her book MEAD: An Epithalamion is forthcoming from UC Georgia Press in the Fall. Other sections from MEAD are in recent or forthcoming issues of American Letters and Commentary, 3rd Bed, The Canary, Pool, Xantippe, and LIT.