write one 150-words for each poem on the sound devices that the poet is using in the poems. Include information on how the sounds interact with the content and the emotion.

Use the SOUND file for your discussion, primarily, rather than the poem on the page. Though you should reference how the poem is on the page and how it works with the sound as well.

sweet reader, flanneled and tulledBY OLENA KALYTIAK DAVISReader unmov'd and Reader unshaken, Reader unseduc'd and unterrified, through the long-loud and the sweet-still I creep toward you. Toward you, I thistle and I climb. I crawl, Reader, servile and cervine, through this blank season, countingI sleep and I sleep. I sleep, Reader, toward you, loud as a cloud and deaf, Reader, deaf as a leaf. Reader: Why don't you turn pale? and, Why don't you tremble? Jaded, staid Reader, Youwho can read this and not even flinch. Bare-faced, flint-hearted, recoilless Reader, dare youRare Reader, listen and be convinced: Soon, Reader, soon you will leave me, for an italian mistress: for her dark hair, and her moon-lit teeth. For her leopardi and her cavalcanti, for her lips and clavicles; for what you want to eat, eat, eat. Art-lover, rector, docent! Do I smile? I, too, once had a brash artless feeder: his eye set firm on my slackening sky. He was true! He was thief! In the celestial sense he provided some, some, some (much-needed) relief. Reader much-slept with, and Reader I will die without touching, You, Reader, You: mr. small- weed, mr. broad-cloth, mr. long-dark-day. And the italian mis- fortune you will heave me for, for her dark hair and her moonlit-teeth. You will love her well in- to three-or-four cities, and then, you will slowly sink. Reader, I will never forgive you, but not, poor cock-sure Reader, not, for what you think. O, Reader Sweet! and Reader Strange! Reader Deaf and Reader Dear, I understand youyourself may be hard- pressed to bare this small and un-necessary burden having only just recently gotten over the clean clean heart- break of spring. And I, Reader, I am but the daughter of a tinker. I am not above the use of bucktail spinners, white grubs, minnow tails. Reader, worms and sinkers. Thisandthese curtail me to be brief: Reader, our sex gone to wildweather. YesReaderYesthat feels much-much better. (And my new Reader will come to me empty- handed, with a countenance that roses, lavenders, and cakes. And my new Reader will be only mildly disappointed. My new Reader can wait, can wait, can wait.) Light- minded, snow-blind, nervous, Reader, Reader, troubled, Reader, what'd ye lack? Importunate, unfortunate, Reader: You are cold. You are sick. You are silly. Forgive me, kind Reader, forgive me, I had not intended to step this quickly this far back. Reader, we had a quiet wedding: he&I, theparson &theclerk. Would I could, stead-fast, gracilefacile Reader! Last, good Reader, tarry with me, jessa-mine Reader. Dar- (jee)ling, bide! Bide, Reader, tired, and stay, stay, stray Reader, true. R.: I had been secretly hoping this would turn into a love poem. Disconsolate. Illiterate. Reader, I have cleared this space for you, for you, for you.

On Antiphon IslandLaunch Audio in a New WindowBY NATHANIEL MACKEY

"mu" twenty-eighth part

On Antiphon Island they lowered the bar and we bent back. It wasn't limbo we were in albeit we limbo'd. Everywhere we went we limbo'd, legs bent, shoulder blades grazing the dirt, donned andoumboulouous birth-shirts, sweat salting the silence we broke... Limbo'd so low we fell and lay looking up at the clouds, backs embraced by the ground and the ground a fallen wall we were ambushed by... Later we'd sit, sipping the fig liqueur, beckoning sleep, soon-come somnolence nowhere come as yet. Where we were, not- withstanding, wasn't there... Where we were was the hold of a ship we were caught in. Soaked wood kept us afloat... It wasn't limbo we were in albeit we limbo'd our way there. Where we were was what we meant by "mu." Where we were was real, reminiscent arrest we resisted, bodies briefly had, held on to "A Likkle Sonance" it said on the record. A trickle of blood hung overhead I heard it spurts. An introvert trumpet run, trickle of sound... A trickle of water lit by the sun I saw with an injured eye, captive music ran our legs and we danced... Knees bent, asses all but on the floor, love's bittersweet largesse... I wanted trickle turned into flow, flood, two made one by music, bodied edge gone up into air, aura, atmosphere the garment we wore. We were on a ship's deck dancing, drawn in a dream above hold... The world was ever after, elsewhere. Where we were they said likkle for little, lick ran with trickle, weird what we took it for... The world was ever after, elsewhere, no way where we were was there