Sunday, February 27, 2011

On "Me and Theodore Are Trapped in the Trunk of the Car with Rags in Our Mouths . . ." by Mary Hamilton (648 words) ***

I'm not sure what's going on with this one, but the language is fun--and stunning. Maybe that's the same thing these days. A woman wants to change her life, go somewhere different. Given that she's at a doctor, it's likely she's a little sick. Likely she's actually a whole lot sick. She's looking for a way out. The way out is language. The way out is the imagination. The way out is to build a bridge. To read. Here. At Smokelong. (A note: The title itself was too long to feature in Blogger, so you'll get the rest of the intriguing title there.)

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