Don’t you have a map?

A collaborative, traveling essay in letters
'twixt Erika Howsare & Jen Tynes.




Part 3, E to J-

In the morning the lady at the Irish-theme store hangs out her Irish flag.

This bar has erased its mark from sand.

Where? The girl is training to run across the water, holding a magic feather. Wind distributes tiny red flowers and a beach is born.

—All day this bar sits and slowly extrudes its beard.

Google "magic feather." You get feather magic.

You get flying. Broken waves and traveling are bent back on themselves like crowbar.

This bar will open certainly in late March or early April with singing and square tables. It is being very strict with itself although it cannot walk nor swim.

A train is what you follow as in form that hitches up and leaves some independence. This is a spine-form and the bottom of my foot cramps. Where? This bends on itself. It's the business of the spine to bend, and because it bends, it pains, when you are crawling out of the post office and down the street, squeezing water out.

You get that one tosses his children post-surgery. Another phones it in.

Google "spine foot". You get drop foot.

It is preserved in museum-oil. The coin gives ideas of diamond-sized rocks "after the bones had been through the final furnace" and looking very dated, like eyes are different now.

—Its little foot opens like feathers.

Am I just imitating some known genus? Am I a calcium deposit inside the territory of leg? It is known that I bled on your reply. We're sharp as a tack here. It is all over the water, or its thoughts come from deep up in the continent, the mountains we bridge out, when we stop on the long side.

What is a form you have to run to catch?

What is a form that accesses wind or falls on the grass like balloons?

What is a form that flies and calls out at once?

This "is a credit to the Chief Engineer" and itself produces smoke as in the output of what it hunts. Human invention extends to the bottom of the ocean. This crosses Slate River and misses the point.

The man who looked after it has glasses that crumple his mouth-parts, and is wearing blue business.

She "did and did not frighten the whales" with her diesel engine and brutal pistons. You get this nice life with fish and radios. This is loud travel down any uninhabited line. This finds it.

—As in, the tough end does the work.

Google "whale hammer." You get conk hammer, floppy hammer.

He crosses the bad foot over, a fire hazard. It looks as though a whirled deposit has protracted itself. Its components decay at different speeds so they separate and make a new habit individually. "Are you still there? This session will close in 30 seconds if you do not press OK."

They say the red boat dropped anchor half a mile onto shore because the charts are off. We are at an unknown position within the back.

"The dead giveaway" "was a tremendous splash on the horizon."

J responds to E at http://josh-hanson.livejournal.com/ in late March.
Please visit http://www.horselesspress.com/amap.html for the whole hog.
Email Erika & Jen: editors AT horselesspress DOT com.