ISSUE  1   2   3  


 5     SUBMIT

Try Not to Kill Anything with Your Face: An Instruction Manual

kari edwards and Chris Martin

Let's do all and anything that comes

Just sever certain things and send


Open and discard content

Return lines to their previous breath

Slip in unnoticed sleep

Wind and release

Hover over for truth

Puncture with tooth

Peel and calibrate to nude lengths

Leap across backwards

Say yes, eyes open

on a rise or around a rose

on a flat

around a crowd that is one

spread that across the universe with solar winds

that is still one


Bother     throb

There is nothing

bleak about the shore

the breaching birds

spearing their tongues to salt

much as we woo the unpalatable

sea, see

what lives its small

time diving among the tide’s

hours     This is ours, will move

more soon, so on

take a visual field

any field

record every detail

shades movements
taste budding hopes supposed thoughts
frizzed atoms     fraught molecule periodic table sum calculations
parcel post and particle paradigms found in the cracks and crevasses

then take a step and do it again


take as tether the line

rapt as gallows rope

open eyes, say yes

yet this is where you must pause

pull the strings until weft

slowly, solely

you must paw at the fabric

until it splits

light the pieces



An Action
(may be performed wherever there are windows)

Throw chair through

window.     Sit

on chair.     Give

reading of new

poems by current

Poet Laureate.


take a deep breath

turn the sky in to a bite-size ball


imagine all the filth of time

the screams from war

blood shed molecules

lost memories from genocide

exhaust, fumes, vapors and particles
     from every motor, coal furnace, and nuclear reactor

the bones that have been crushed in machines by machines

all the hate and violence caused by fear times one million and fifty-five

isolation and madness in the upper atmosphere

each and every cry from the last of a kind

greed and the road paved with good intentions

take a deep breath



Open the closest closet and remove all the clothes


Look into the eye of a fish

See yourself

Go backwards


there is a hum in the air

the air is the hum

do you know the tune?


stand on a white piece of paper

become the paper

have someone place the paper outside


in a large room place your voice next to the blank space


when it is time to do something

remember there are at least twenty-four opinions


get young black teenagers

put their pants on backwards

sell a million records




remember the end is only the beginning

connect all movies ever made including home movies
to create a endless loop
sit down to watch them
don’t forget to make enough popcorn


count out each second that you have lived


buy a car


keep it in

a broken television

don’t feed it


read a boot

shoot a gum

run a rake

bake a pier

wear a squirt

build a horse











the path of a rainstorm is a uniform pattern of raindrops that records the conception of storm from the beginning to the end of it. each raindrop contains specks of the universe that are scattered from point A to point B. once these particles descend and land they begin another journey into the soil to become a part of a planet. that is, a source of food and so on.

now picture each particle’s journey as a traceable element in time with pluses and minuses in each direction, zero being the present, each particle leaving its own slight colored echo of where it’s been and where it’s going.


Pour your

hate into

a vial.

Smash it

over and

over again.


Think of how
animals kill

things using
only their faces

Try not to
kill anything

with your face


Take a year in your hand—
it’s small and rumbles

like an antique
boxcar in a shoebox

diorama.     Dare to
squeeze it.     Shower

it with fingers. Let go
of the year.     Let

your eyes go after it.
Say yes to the absence

of our lord, please,
go easy into that

Good Friday.

Special thanks to Fran Blau for her kind permission to publish this work.