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Planchette Interpretation:
A Short Guide to Reading Letters from the Dead
A
Another.
As if a Fine Arts degree is skin.
Or sound: what the stew doesn't tell the ladies.
A trick rabbit for a trick bucket.
Querent will drink - lustily - from one eye.
It's a new world out there.
It's a floating body part out there.
It's someone's perfume stain out there.
The force of nature is such that a fish remains a fish.
After 40 secret love poems, the anonymous writer blows south.
To killing mosquitoes. To satellite dishes.
A crash diet that becomes the armadillo.
B
Beyond.
A voiced-over LSD trip.
A mothball that fits the moth hole.
A wax potato head of the Querent's childhood.
And strawberry shortcake. With the flu. Some gas. Bait rinds.
Querent will hiccup a middle-age crisis.
Boredom detects its combination lock.
In the old missionary position, bluegrass and Ben-Hur.
The bay window grows into the voyeur.
Why bend sideways to hum yellow underpants?
Or ride the bike through a bus?
Burials confirm the recently lazy dead.
C
Currency.
The turned table.
Not in any special occasion.
Not in any charm bracelet (with kefir grains).
A homecoming that excites some cats.
Or coming, in general, all over the President's jacket.
A concentration camp on the back of a spoon.
Querent will sit the wrong tennis tournament. Like a dairy cow.
The neck comes in many nasty crinkled parts.
And all along the cocktail umbrella opens its canopy.
To accommodate the ice cube.
A bulge like this makes someone's nice day.
D
Don't.
Today the little death.
Today the red dragon flytraps.
Today another private part gets the tampon.
Enclosed, with compliments, a duck recipe in sans serif.
The sky will spit a deep hangman's blue.
Destiny, like the missing typist.
Dame Curie wants more dizzy spells for her game of solitaire.
So many bricks to cover errors in the wallpaper.
The unhinged door with its detrimental click.
A mathematical application for love.
The tip of the Querent's tongue refracts lies in water.
E
Even / If.
Some ants are hijacked.
Another anonymous phone call.
Placed somewhere in the Mississippi.
Eggs are nut-cracked, sometimes peppered Elizabeth.
An electrical device goes sssshhhhhh.
At the count of three, lichen on the submerged radio.
At the count of six, road kill teriyaki.
At the count of nine, red wine in the glass shatter.
Eventually, an excuse for dishpan hands.
A cherry orchard where Querent had once burned ants.
F
Fall / Fire.
Moderate to light drizzle.
Gooseberry jam and a cold shoulder.
On the 15th, Querent will be served two live frogs.
"Fruitcake," said the genie.
"Figure skating," said the #1 exhaust fan.
"Let's be more involved now," said the gravy boat.
Querent comes to full terms with being broke.
For good. For happily ever after, perhaps.
Several sledge-shaped knee wounds.
In Peru, a femur quietly stirs spice into the rice.
G
Growth.
A gorilla costume.
A fire drill for carrying dead bodies.
A god figure in the coffee dregs.
The girl, Alice is available now to cough up existence.
Giant dust bunny finds its umbilical fuse.
Someone's pet tarantula (unhooked).
In the rice crispies. In the pot. In the Querent's cotton-mill fantasies.
The golliwog combines salt to its tightrope act.
Perfect in every way aside from molds.
Yet. But. Maybe. Only shoe brochures can tell.
H
Halt.
Consider the ash tree.
Consider the empty dog dish.
Consider which cigarette to landscape the cold.
The SS general wants a dear-john lung attached to the letter.
Hope comes with the washing machine manual.
On a fishhook, the devil's tailscape.
And a package of mung beans.
Helicopter in dreams means a canceled check.
For the mail-order wife. For dental care. For endangered species.
Querent has a mind for dyeing the Book of Job.
Sunday will be packed with sardines.
I
Inventory.
A spiny cactus (profile).
Two blood oranges from a civil war.
Three museum-piece paper cuts on the index finger.
Four decades of schmuck therapy.
Five representational motifs of whatever.
Querent will be shipwrecked on the 30th, if not before.
In the elevator. With chipped Christmas ornaments. Among divorcees.
Instant cake mix whitewashes the hair.
A ménage à trois that makes plink-plink noises.
Possibly, a gewgaw fetishist downstairs.
So many times the door would ring on the greeting card.
J
Ja.
German (t)issues.
Couscous in a bell jar.
The $200 haircut with hickeys.
Ja, ja, ja repeated in one rocket breath.
On the 9th, the calm before a dirty joke.
This is where the original sin gets genetically modified.
This is where the vinegar tincture goes Whoa.
This is where Querent is urged to ship a crate of traffic jam.
To the flag on the moon. With vegetables. A nice butt.
On the fifteenth, the shipwreck and the swan.
The physician will be called to cure the cultured lie.
Whatever it is, it's the jazz of the party.
K
Kismet.
Tonight the letter opener.
Tonight the bloated stomach.
Tonight the gas chamber whirrs with cicadas.
Like keys, desirous of loss. Or the married life.
All plump. All open and close. With olive oil.
If only Kool-Aid loves the serrated spoon.
It's luck on top of petty agoraphobia.
The pomegranate seed approaches Wittgenstein.
The season, bloody mary again.
Querent should stash the knife sharpener away.
From hangovers. From hangmen. From hung noodles.
And yes, the bear hug with its nasty nasty fireside manners.
L
Lost.
The throaty fusebox.
A short-cut to illumination.
The absence of power drills.
An assumed address with a real name.
Querent is the Louvre in the octopus.
From 10 meters away, it looks like drizzle.
The object of one's desire is desirous of dead mice.
Object twirls constellations in a lungfish bowl.
Object will wait until noon for the chandelier.
This is the age of extra-large bear traps.
Mimosas. Soiled dungarees. The forged signature.
M
Mother.
A pair of handcuffs.
In gold. Bed-bound. With thirst.
A beginning registered as Monday night.
Underskin, a careless bruise.
Magnolias around the oatmeal, congealed.
Querent will part the toupee in the middle.
During gym exercise, with floor mats.
A matrimonial accountancy.
Unpaid sick leave in the two-star motel.
It is time to speed-boat into the déjà vu of where.
Skis have been waxed for that third drink.
N
Now / Not now.
The reversible jacket.
A bird case of romance novels.
A crate half-filled with confusional comforts.
A box that states: Arthritic. Handle with fishhook.
Schrödinger wants to come out into the catgut.
For the duration of the waltz. Of thirty love poems. Of Vanity Fair.
A wooden leg, discarded, in the supermarket.
Querent will jaywalk on a nude drawing.
Under the thumbs down, with arugula in the window wash.
On the beak of a decoy duck.
After the 16th, there will be lilacs for defective verbs.
Hopscotch comes in many fuzzy feet sizes.
O
Oui.
Something like ahem.
Or oh my god, with fake mustache.
We'll be reading the cuff-link codes together.
We'll be running a 39°C fever for the next election.
We'll be rummaging another person's mouth with our tongue.
A boat may contain a Newfoundland.
Perhaps two. In the context of first wives' tales.
The coming of a male part on stage.
Querent scuttles over rooftops in search of lost migraine.
Or over the hill, under a sizzlish raincoat.
Orgasm, perhaps. When it suits the comedy.
P
Peas / Peace.
The unironed lingerie.
A vacation spot called itch.
Paul, before the name altered the flesh rot.
Querent will add hand gliding to the porridge.
A question of wool. Like orchitis.
Something fishy in the hot water system.
Involuntary, inexplicable: two sides of the face slap.
A Portuguese nun on the barb wire.
Or the gauzy flick of syphilis against the door.
It's about time to land a golf course on the parking meter.
Q
Quack.
A hair extension.
Until Chopin's Fifth Étude.
Until the polyester suit, with fine duct-tape trimmings.
Until the next projection of how to bind feet and (bad) breath.
Querent will skirt the limelight on a syringe.
A pianist, glued to whalebones, stroking defeat.
What else is there to crave in a potato chip?
After Tuesday, a lucky ransom note.
Quinine sings the oxeye daisy.
The daily bread. The irritable bowels.
R
Reason / Unreason.
How it all began: chapped li(s)ps.
The onyx raincoat. Some buckle-my-shoes godheads.
Why sink a runny nose into the relief goods?
Why dislike polka for a dollar?
Why question the dead in a skating rink?
Just this once, a hamster wheel that creaks rain.
Irreparable as far as previous lives go.
On the 19th, a toenail insurrection.
From here on, Querent can turn water into bee stings.
S
So.
A dentistry spider.
Rashes that spell chocolate.
On lens zoom: foot shadow on squirrel.
Querent is finally operative around dried meat (truth).
With belt buckles in the background.
Which pink handkerchief is the plank's end?
At best, monkey bars that cling to tiny-island dust motes.
In a conch shell. In a skin wrinkle.
On slurp: quicksand within a three-meter radius.
At times mistaken for sensual aids.
T
Touchè.
Less the first act in Macbeth.
Less roach clips. Less hysterectomy.
Talcum powder that, nevertheless, deserves more distrust.
With Querent slung across a leg of lamb.
On a day like any other. On the yellow pages.
Double negatives indicate time travel.
As long as thoughtfulness picks up foreign objects.
In the eye. Or breakfast oatmeal.
If it's the basement, the seven sins.
Perhaps udders included in the menu.
Two more days until Noah's ark hits the spyhole.
U
Unless.
There are class struggles.
And bad hair/bad egg months.
A spattering of kneecaps (fat-soluble).
Already involved in imaginary fire hydrants.
A typewriter prefers to be called red light district.
Perhaps, vanity willing, curvature of space.
Querent on a mission from Nietzsche.
In the public washroom. In tea leaves. In fistnotes.
Underwater, some nearly newlyweds.
Picking scabs. Running leaks. Tacking experimental frogs.
All in a doll's house. All in anyone's guess.
V
Vent.
Single-cell fury.
100% igloo dripping concentrate.
May or may not be individually gutted.
Depending on which Ivanhoe copy dissolves the deathbed.
A dead relative wishes to recite an ikebana tutorial now.
Perhaps, sing ring-around-the-cheese-mildew.
Little else of Querent's self in paperclips.
And the hand brake. Ever tyrannical.
A piece of skinned elbow unfolds.
The 18th schedules a knife factory junket.
Uranus makes up for the new moon in stir-fry noodles.
The last toothpick will leak a sports car.
W
Was / Were.
A previous life as a lead pipe.
The third person, twice removed.
Often referred to as transient beverage.
During roughcasts. Under a borrowed surname.
Querent is still not quite eligible as is.
For wheechair sequences. For schizophrenia.
Soon the dissection of thuribles.
Soon a noise like fabric playing cards.
Soon the top forty will staple a soiree to the bone marrow.
Here. The donkey tail. The contact lens.
The worst of all possible soup hair.
X
XIII.
As in, mass transit.
As in, the would-be unlucky.
A peroxide solution to the old sexual dysentery.
Magic first, then sedatives.
The model carpenter breaks down.
On purpose. Like piano keys during a storm.
Or a whodunit by the fire hazard.
Querent steps out of the watermelon.
Into the facial muscles of an exchange orphan.
Burritos and séances at table 44.
All for the price of a bunsen burner (slightly scratched).
Y
Yet.
Again with toothache.
The pizza delivery boy graffiti.
A kind of September. Without deer ticks.
Another sword-swallowing mirror.
To project transparent fins in slow motion.
To develop a likeness to nipples.
To manufacture chimps at the triptych of the rainbow.
The peek-a-boo slipped disc.
Would anyone care for more unhappiness?
Overnight, the Querent’s pet rock grows a clavicle.
Z
Zero.
The imaginary gay bar.
Lemon zest on the knave of spades.
Zulu on the map wet-paints a future bench in the park.
Querent lies about a dirt road.
Querent tracks zookeepering to the wrong dictionary.
Querent is thirty miles from waving goodbye.
False exit sign, false clouds, false pregnant belly.
Further away into private parts.
A return to the big-bang chemistry set.
Like light at the end of the tuna.
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Planchette Interpretation: A Short Guide to Reading Letters from the Dead