***Or oral? Can they be a *virus? **What kind of lines do you have in mind?

: Sina Queryas.

**The line is matted on a riverbank, then rotated three to five times: "Our eye-beams twisted, and did thread/ Our eyes upon one double string." (John Donne. The Ecstasie.)  My favorite poem as a child.  I did not understand it.  I read it over and over again: a precursor.  An addiction.  To the image of violets. Or the act of transplantation.  Pre-Stein.  The page like a mouth***dilating and wavering beneath my anxious eye.  A sensation I next had as an adult, reading the poems of Erin Mouré: her line an ablation, a coming-next, a *wrecked replication, a blur: "LesMotsLesMorts..."   (Trickhouse/12/curated by Laynie Browne)

**The line is not exactly straight if you yourself are curvature, incarnate; if your body has another way of moving through the world: "so Harold spoke and i did not track his gestures exactly, not in language. i felt them in my body as the rise and fall of tone, the swish of intention/worry/exclamation. but when i tried to reflect them back to him, my body could not do the things his body did. so i found i could map them as a poem." (Amber DiPietra: a somatics of the line: "to veer"/"to burst": FALLING IN REAL TIME:  blog.)

Or: **the line is a "private space...made semi-public." A "deformation zone." [*/*] That split-open line is both orality and *mutation.  (Its precondition.)  (The wet ground.) Separate subject: the appropriation**** of a biology/quantum vocabulary for poetic aims.  I mean, not Xenotext.  Who else does it well?  I am pre-menstrual today, and probably should not be blogging.  Ignore that ****last bit. I was trying to create a talking point for Poetry Month.  As my son would say: Fail.  At  school, we read for the "space" or "zone" described above: [*/* :below.]  We read  Poems of the Black Object.  The sentence, we said: is the place that records touch. Not touch.  Something else (the body) (whose body?) (reaching out) (to whom?): "He’s about to proceed: as a dragon, or a horse, something/ where only his black feet extend from the mane." (*/*: Johannes Gorannsen/Joyelle McSweeney on Ronaldo Wilson: MONTEVIDAYO: blog.)

**: And: what kind of line do I have "in mind"?  A human line.  A line of human beings.