Karla Linn Merrifield

<body topmargin=0 leftmargin=0 marginheight=0 marginwidth=0> <table cellpadding=0 cellspacing=0 border=0><tr> <td valign="top" height=120 BGCOLOR="#CCCC99" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="0ec8dfe1esnpes.jpg"> <div> <FONT SIZE="5" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" ><B>FootHills Publishing 2009</B></FONT><B>     </B><B>|</B><B>     </B><A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="FootHills Publishing 2009"><U><B>home</B></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="FootHills Publishing 2009"><U>FootHills Publishing 2009</U></A>   |   <A HREF="id41.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Books 2009"><U>Books 2009</U></A>   |   <A HREF="id44.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Laury A. Egan"><U>Laury A. 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In psalm after riverine psalm here, whether her subject is tongue or Indian summer or the eye or box turtle and moon or mountain or love, Karla Linn Merrifield continues her quest for the center of poetry itself, the primal, and we are glad, by way of her voice, to hear and behold, to draw closer.</div> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> -William Heyen, author of <I>Shoah Train: Poems,</I> </div> <div> Finalist for the National Book Award</div> <bR> <bR> <div> At first glance, Karla Linn Merrifield's title, <I>The Etowah River Psalms</I>, may have religious connotations, but for this poet, it is nature that is sacred, and she worships it with profound sensuality, sweeping us downstream on the iconic Etowah River. She writes, “I am your innermost river / throbbing with wild currents within you.” This line epitomizes the rush, the pulse, of her lyric style as she celebrates our kinship with water and nature and with each other. As we participate in this journey, Merrifield asks us to become a river, a whale, a moon jelly, a human lover; to let go and drift and tumble in her imagination. </div> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> -Laury A. Egan, <I>Snow, Shadows, a Stranger</I></div> <bR> <bR> <div> Karla Linn Merrifield's e-mails always end with a foundational statement: “Poetry furthers the sacred.” Indeed, this collection of poems does just that, realizing sacredness in the natural world's “courtly lovemaking / of my marrow.” Nourished by her own loving encounters with the rivers of life flowing through and around the North American continent, the lands and waters and all that dwell therein - turtles, geese, whales, jellies, bees, humans - Merrifield charts her own slow settling into right relationship with the universe, as herself “a white angel among an abundance / of angels.” With open eyes, hands, heart, and tongue, she explores the fierce delicacy of all bodily life, our own species included: the elemental forces - eros, death, time, patience, longing - that flow through water, earth, fire, air, and all their animate descendants. And in the companionship of these poems, you, too - like the turtles, like the poet, like the ocean - will “have no other god / than gravity.”</div> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> -Steven Pavlos Holmes, Editor, <I>Sea Stories</I> (www.seastories.org); author, </div> <div> <I>The Young John Muir: An Environmental Biography</I></div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> <I><B>From the book:</B></I></div> <bR> <div> <B>Foreword: A Litany of Rivers</B></div> <bR> <div> Rivers figure prominently on my personal interior map of life. I was born in a confluence town where the Monongahela forms. By the time I was seven or eight, I'd learned that it flows atypically north to a point where it partners with the Allegheny to create the Ohio, a river destined for the Mississippi.   </div> <bR> <div> Over the years since then, in my travels on my home continent and in Europe, I have met many other rivers, great and modest. As a college student traipsing through Austria, I speedboated on the Danube. Several times I've strolled the banks of the Thames in London and the <I>bancs</I> of the Seine in Paris. One summer I took a tour boat down the Reine near Frankfort and ambled the Ponte Vecchio across the Arno in Florence. </div> <bR> <div> Here in North America, I've stood near the source of the Mississippi in Minnesota and near its mouth in Louisiana and crisscrossed it on a dozen bridges north and south. I've kayaked several stretches of the Missouri and watched windsurfers along the Columbia. I've seen the Yukon from a car and a motorboat and taken a jet boat up the Snake into Hell's Canyon. I've rafted a long stretch of the Middle Fork of the Salmon River. Canoed the Rio Grande. Stopped to listen to spring melt tumble down the Humboldt. Fished the Russian River (of Alaska, not California). And for fourteen once-in-a-lifetime days, I rollicked down the rapids on the Colorado through the Grand Canyon for 213.5 wild miles on an eighteen-foot dory, a cockleshell of a craft in the white water. It was during this expedition that I also was swept away on the Little Colorado River, there brushed up against boulders in the stream, brushed up against death. </div> <bR> <div> Close to home, I make a pilgrimage each autumn to Niagara Falls to watch that river (which is technically a strait) plunge through mist and rainbows into the gorge on its way to Lake Ontario and on to the St. Lawrence River to the Atlantic.  </div> <bR> <div> In Canada, where I've made my way from the eastern terminus of the Transcanada 1 highway in St. John's, Newfoundland, to its western terminus in Tofino on Vancouver Island, I've encountered dozens of rivers powerful and famous (like the Fraser in British Columbia) and small and relatively <I>inconnu</I> (like the Souris in Manitoba). Notably, twice I've crossed the mighty Mackenzie of the Northwest Territories on a ferry-the only way to and from Yellowknife once the ice bridge melts in spring.</div> <bR> <div> But I have never met the river called Etowah though it has become an Amazon to me. Or, as nature writer Janisse Ray said of the Saint Mary's River of Georgia:  “…it flows straight into a yearning hole in my heart.”</div> <bR> <div> The Etowah River, a modest one just a short drive northwest of Atlanta, first came to my attention in October 2004 when Georgia poet Beau Cutts sent me his poem “The Etowah” as a way to introduce himself during our nascent correspondence. I was moved by the poem and thought it a fine, fine piece of poetry.</div> <bR> <div> But it wasn't until I taught the poem a year later in my college freshman writing class (one that focuses on the environment and humanity's relationship to it) that the poem-and its river-swept me away. The poem electrified several students; they saw things in it I'd not seen in my several readings of it. And that in turn made me take a much closer look at “The Etowah” and the Etowah River. </div> <bR> <div> One sunny September morning, I remember plucking a line from “The Etowah,” as if pulling a thread from a tightly woven tapestry and playing with it, scribbling, composing. I began a reweaving of “Migrants crack open/our first sleep” into a poem that became “Mercy Flight.” A few days later I tugged at another line in “The Etowah” and wove a second poem. Then a third borrowed line, a third poem. By then it dawned on me: Cutts's poem and his river were carrying me away; I'd caught the current and was headed downstream at a dizzying pace, writing poem after poem with line after line from his master poem until the poems had run their course, were complete.  </div> <bR> <div> These many months later, I am still amazed by the phenomenon, that a river and a poem about a river could captivate me so thoroughly. It remains a mystery; I let it be. No, I've never seen the Etowah River, but I believe in it. It has helped me, as W.S. Merwin says, “to keep time with no time.” To me the Etowah is as timeless as the Nile, as the god Meander's Meander River in Asia Minor of ages ago; Beau Cutts has made it so for me.</div> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> ~~~</div> <bR> <div> Note: See the Epilogue for the complete text of Cutts's “The Etowah.”</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <B>In Erato's Voice</B></div> <bR> <div> Hush now! Listen!</div> <div> This is your water of life,</div> <div> the greatest part of your body,</div> <div> of your blood, of your flesh.</div> <bR> <div> Speaking in a rush of shoals</div> <div> in your great heart racing,</div> <div> I am.   </div> <div> Can you hear</div> <div> me pounding in your fingertips?</div> <div> There I pulse, molecules swirling</div> <div> in a pool of red as you make words</div> <div> and they flow into thoughts, </div> <div> no matter whether </div> <div> inchoate or complete.</div> <bR> <div> I am your innermost river</div> <div> throbbing with wild currents within you:</div> <div> I am the idea of ideas.     </div> <div> I have an oceanic effect on you;</div> <div> I give you vital tides. You begin to write.</div> <bR> <div> I am a small spring deep in your bone;</div> <div> seeping into your marrow</div> <div> so that you know what to say</div> <div> and know how to say it.</div> <bR> <div> I whisper in the sweat</div> <div> from your pores as you labor</div> <div> over every line writing and writing;</div> <div> I have trickled in every tear</div> <div> you have ever cried</div> <div> and will do so in all</div> <div> those that will yet be cried</div> <div> onto blank white paper.</div> <bR> <div> Listen and you will hear me</div> <div> in every cell of your being. </div> <div> A poem appears on the page.           </div> <bR> <div> I am in you, ubiquitous, mythic, alive.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> A Pushcart Prize nominee, 2009 Andrew Eiseman Writers Award for Poetry recipient, and 2009 Everglades National Park Artist-in-Residence, Karla Linn Merrifield has had poetry appear in dozens of print and online publications as well as in many anthologies. She has four books to her credit (<I>Midst, Godwit: Poems of Canada, Dawn of Migration and Other Audubon Dreams</I>, and <I>THE DIRE ELEGIES: 59 Poets on Endangered Species of North America).</I> She is poetry editor of <I>Sea Stories</I> (www.seastories.org), book reviewer  and assistant editor for <I>The Centrifugal Eye (w</I>ww.centrifugaleye.com) and moderator of the poetry blog, <I>Smothered Air (</I>http://smotheredair.yuku.com/)<I>.</I> She teaches at Writers & Books in Rochester, NY; her blog is <A HREF="http://karlalinn.blogspot.com" TARGET="_top" TITLE="http://karlalinn.blogspot.com"><U>http://karlalinn.blogspot.com</U></A>.</div> <bR> <div> <IMG SRC="1f5c8c20.jpg" border=0 width="200" height="194" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div>     <FONT SIZE="5" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Palatino" ><I>The Etowah River Psalms</I></FONT> is a 40 page <FONT SIZE="4" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Times New Roman" >hand-stitched chapbook.   $10.00</FONT></div> <bR> <div> TO ORDER  ON-LINE                               </div> <div>       </div> <bR> <div> From the US         <form target="paypal" action="https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr" method="post"> <input type="image" src="https://www.paypal.com/en_US/i/btn/sc-but-01.gif" border="0" name="submit" alt="Make payments with PayPal - it's fast, free and secure!"> <input type="hidden" name="add" value="1"> <input type="hidden" name="cmd" value="_cart"> <input type="hidden" name="business" value="fhp@foothillspublishing.com"> <input type="hidden" name="item_name" value="The Etowah River Psalms"> <input type="hidden" name="item_number" value="09-18"> <input type="hidden" name="amount" value="10.00"> <input type="hidden" name="currency_code" value="USD"> </form>  </div> <bR> <div> From Canada    <form target="paypal" action="https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr" method="post"> <input type="image" src="https://www.paypal.com/en_US/i/btn/sc-but-01.gif" border="0" name="submit" alt="Make payments with PayPal - it's fast, free and secure!"> <input type="hidden" name="add" value="1"> <input type="hidden" name="cmd" value="_cart"> <input type="hidden" name="business" value="fhp@foothillspublishing.com"> <input type="hidden" name="item_name" value="The Etowah River Psalms"> <input type="hidden" name="item_number" value="09-18"> <input type="hidden" name="amount" value="10.00"> <input type="hidden" name="shipping" value="2.75"> <input type="hidden" name="currency_code" value="USD"> </form>  </div> <bR> <div> From Other Countries            <form target="paypal" action="https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr" method="post"> <input type="image" src="https://www.paypal.com/en_US/i/btn/sc-but-01.gif" border="0" name="submit" alt="Make payments with PayPal - it's fast, free and secure!"> <input type="hidden" name="add" value="1"> <input type="hidden" name="cmd" value="_cart"> <input type="hidden" name="business" value="fhp@foothillspublishing.com"> <input type="hidden" name="item_name" value="The Etowah River Psalms"> <input type="hidden" name="item_number" value="09-18"> <input type="hidden" name="amount" value="10.00"> <input type="hidden" name="shipping" value="5.00"> <input type="hidden" name="currency_code" value="USD"> </form>       </div> <bR> <bR> <div>      <A HREF="id42.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Ordering By Mail"><U>To order through mail click here</U></A></div> <div> ****************************************</div> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <B> <A NAME="away__5"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A></B><B>AWAY #5</B></div> <bR> <div> <B>Karla Linn Merrifield</B></div> <div> <B>Godwit</B></div> <div> <B>Poems of Canada</B></div> <div> <B>(Chosen for the University of Rochester's </B></div> <div> <B>Andrew Eiseman Writers Award)</B></div> <bR> <div> <B><IMG SRC="1eb2cdd0.jpg" border=0 width="300" height="477" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></B></div> <bR> <div> In love with Canada since developing a crush on a visiting Canadian Cub Scout years ago (we were both 7), it's no wonder to me that Karla Linn Merrifield's captivating <I>Godwit</I> snatched at my heart---I identified with her covetous attachment to things and places Canadian early in the introduction---and it wouldn't let go, the last empathetic beats of me continuing to resonate in the northern needles, cones, native elders, butterclams and roe inhabiting the final poems. </div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div>                    ---<B>Eve Anthony Hanninen</B>, poet and editor, </div> <div> <I>The Centrifugal Eye</I></div> <bR> <bR> <div> Karla Linn Merrifield may not be an ex-patriot, but her literary sense of Canada-its landscape, its people, its essential there-ness-is as acute as though she had spent her entire life above the 49th parallel. Or perhaps more acute, because, as with anything seen from the outside, her focus is sharpened by distance, honed by reverie, and described by detailed poetic sensibility. For Canadians and non-Canadians alike, this book is a treat to read-unrivalled by even the tastiest bite of cod cheeks . . . or Tim Horton's. </div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div>      ---<B>Alisa Gordaneer</B>, award-winning poet and editor of </div> <div> <I>Monday Magazine</I>, Victoria, B.C.</div> <bR> <div> <B>From the book:</B></div> <bR> <div> <B>thereness:</B></div> <bR> <bR> <div> only cold water, me naked in October at dusk</div> <div> diving in, surfacing up, stroking out</div> <div> toward the mauves and pinks of Canada,</div> <div> to a horizon fresh and crisp, my bracing goal</div> <div> to be more fish or loon, even a zebra mussel</div> <div> clasping some small existence with this ubiquitous</div> <div> sky and breeze, near silence, near sunset, nearer</div> <div> the rising full moon and her wide Milky Way.</div> <bR> <div> so my dark hair tangles like seaweed when I pause,</div> <div> my nipples address the barest rippling waves</div> <div> as my toes dip deeply, touch stone after stone, tipping</div> <div> me into the horizontal, the floating, the resting</div> <div> between shore & shore, this today & that tomorrow.</div> <bR> <div> suddenly, willfully, I submerge</div> <div> then spring into the cooling evening air-</div> <div> there, all there, positively there.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> <I><B>Witnessing the Canadian Shield</B></I></div> <bR> <bR> <div> I think it perhaps wise to travel</div> <div> lightly in this weighted country,</div> <div> if only in homage to its granite.</div> <div> It is honorable to be a curl</div> <div> of goose down, a curl of lichen,</div> <div> in essence, easily carried away</div> <div> on spirited winds & waters while</div> <div> all that is mute, stern stone</div> <div> abides, withholding every secret</div> <div> of time as spruce needles blow</div> <div> or float away with the dry curls</div> <div> of birch skin, dry curls of fern.</div> <div> It is a form of bowing down,</div> <div> this bending over before that rock</div> <div> of ages, born of Earth's ancient</div> <div> core, cooled, compressed over eons,</div> <div> & resurrected, come to light, become</div> <div> the bared solid bone of North America.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> <I><B>Cable Cove Time Zones</B></I></div> <bR> <bR> <div> Nature takes some time</div> <div> to make her Pacific tide come in,</div> <div> but a human can sit still long</div> <div> enough to watch, albeit patiently,</div> <div> less than half a bright day or half a clear night</div> <div> & see kelp or rock or cove</div> <div> covered, uncovered, in cold briny water.</div> <bR> <div> Nature takes some time</div> <div> to create soil from stone:</div> <div> Lichen yield two centimeters</div> <div> of sweet earth every century.</div> <div> I can see the antediluvian gray-green</div> <div> fastened to basalt or schist, but never</div> <div> in a lifetime detect a particle of</div> <div> anything friable to my fingers.</div> <bR> <div> Nature takes some time</div> <div> to get up speed for glaciers</div> <div> or volcanoes or tectonic plates moving</div> <div> into one or another mountain peak or range-</div> <div> here the modest Mackenzies of Vancouver Island,</div> <div> there deep snow & ice-bearing Rockies-</div> <div> that may give me, if I am listening</div> <div> to her seismic tumult & tumbling,</div> <div> a scant tremble in my eardrums</div> <bR> <div> of how her time passes </div> <div> as it passes through, goes on </div> <div> past my nascent senses into eons.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> Godwit</div> <div> is a 92 page hand-sewn book with spine </div> <div> including color photos and notes on poems - $18.00</div> <bR> <bR> <div> TO ORDER  ON-LINE </div> <bR> <div> <B>  </B><FONT SIZE="4" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Times New Roman" >From the US</FONT><B>   <form target="paypal" action="https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr" method="post"> <input type="image" src="https://www.paypal.com/en_US/i/btn/sc-but-01.gif" border="0" name="submit" alt="Make payments with PayPal - it's fast, free and secure!"> <input type="hidden" name="add" value="1"> <input type="hidden" name="cmd" value="_cart"> <input type="hidden" name="business" value="fhp@foothillspublishing.com"> <input type="hidden" name="item_name" value="Godwit"> <input type="hidden" name="item_number" value="AWAY 07-5"> <input type="hidden" name="amount" value="18.00"> <input type="hidden" name="no_note" value="1"> <input type="hidden" name="currency_code" value="USD"> </form>     </B></div> <bR> <div> From Canada    <form target="paypal" action="https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr" method="post"> <input type="image" src="https://www.paypal.com/en_US/i/btn/sc-but-01.gif" border="0" name="submit" alt="Make payments with PayPal - 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it's fast, free and secure!"> <input type="hidden" name="display" value="1"> </form>  </div> <bR> <bR> <div> <A HREF="id42.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Ordering By Mail"><U>To order through mail</U></A><FONT SIZE="4" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Palatino Linotype" ><A HREF="id42.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Ordering By Mail"><U> c</U></A></FONT><A HREF="id42.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Ordering By Mail"><U>lick here.</U></A></div> <bR> <div> ****************************************</div> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div>  <A NAME="midst"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A>Midst</div> <bR> <div> Karla Linn Merrifield</div> <bR> <div> <IMG SRC="1ef19a30.jpg" border=0 width="281" height="419" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> <I>I can't help it, won't help it:  I hear voices. It's been happening over the past several years as I have traipsed up the backwaters & into the wilder regions of the North American continent. As I traveled, I left behind Ruskin's pathetic fallacy that had taught me to avoid imbuing the natural world with human feeling.  I left behind the work of many modern poets who have used the pathetic fallacy to ironically emphasize the loss of communion between the individual & the natural world.  But I stuffed into my backpack the belief that that communion could be regained & that the natural world could imbue me with its feelings. And it did.</I></div> <div> <I>The process for the resulting poems I wrote of such close encounters was twofold. Being a creature of Western culture & having been a student of the scientific method, I lugged my guidebooks with me & took as my departure point the identification, the naming of the beings I met in field & stream. I nailed down the Linnaean nomenclature for each beast - and then I stared (as poet William Heyen first instructed me to do).  </I></div> <div> <I>I find that if I stare long enough, listen well enough along the unbeaten paths, the animals will speak, pleading their cause, informing the human condition. With this slim volume of poems I invite readers to hear what the carp, cod, halibut & others of their kingdom have to say. I invite my readers to commune, to be in the midst.</I></div> <div> <I>     </I></div> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <I>- Karla Linn Merrifield</I></div> <div> From the book:</div> <bR> <div> <I>The Grip</I></div> <div> <I>     to Tess Gallagher</I></div> <bR> <div> My Pacific intertidal life guide clearly</div> <div> identifies today's find as a common acorn</div> <div> barnacle, specifically <I>Balanus glandula,</I></div> <div> staking also its claim to fame:  a naked</div> <div> tenaciousness, possessing as it does one</div> <div> of the strongest known natural adhesives.</div> <bR> <div> But I passed over their chitinous craters filled</div> <div> with moist, gray, blank eyes of primitive</div> <div> meat & attendant barbed legs yet feeding,</div> <div> to study ones long gone to crows & gulls,</div> <div> shells of former simple selves holding,</div> <div> holding on, outlasting, yes, even death.</div> <bR> <div> I had to be my own life guide, perceive</div> <div> such creatures as the antithesis of morning</div> <div> mists over the strait straying off so easily</div> <div> into thinnest of air at the slightest touch</div> <div> of light.  I came to know them quite clearly</div> <div> otherwise, those old soul barnacles, those old lovers.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> <B>Midst</B><I> </I>is a 32 page  hand-sewn chapbook. </div> <div> $7.00</div> <bR> <div> TO ORDER  <B>Midst</B> ON-LINE </div> <div> <B>   </B></div> <div> <B>  </B><FONT SIZE="4" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Times New Roman" >From the US</FONT><B>   <form target="paypal" action="https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr" method="post"> <input type="image" src="https://www.paypal.com/en_US/i/btn/sc-but-01.gif" border="0" name="submit" alt="Make payments with PayPal - it's fast, free and secure!"> <input type="hidden" name="add" value="1"> <input type="hidden" name="cmd" value="_cart"> <input type="hidden" name="business" value="fhp@foothillspublishing.com"> <input type="hidden" name="item_name" value="Midst"> <input type="hidden" name="item_number" value="04-13"> <input type="hidden" name="amount" value="7.00"> <input type="hidden" name="no_note" value="1"> <input type="hidden" name="currency_code" value="USD"> </form>     </B></div> <bR> <div> From Canada    <form target="paypal" action="https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr" method="post"> <input type="image" src="https://www.paypal.com/en_US/i/btn/sc-but-01.gif" border="0" name="submit" alt="Make payments with PayPal - it's fast, free and secure!"> <input type="hidden" name="add" value="1"> <input type="hidden" name="cmd" value="_cart"> <input type="hidden" name="business" value="fhp@foothillspublishing.com"> <input type="hidden" name="item_name" value="Midst"> <input type="hidden" name="item_number" value="04-13"> <input type="hidden" name="amount" value="7.00"> <input type="hidden" name="shipping" value="2.75"> <input type="hidden" name="currency_code" value="USD"> </form>  </div> <bR> <div> From Other Countries            <form target="paypal" action="https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr" method="post"> <input type="image" src="https://www.paypal.com/en_US/i/btn/sc-but-01.gif" border="0" name="submit" alt="Make payments with PayPal - it's fast, free and secure!"> <input type="hidden" name="add" value="1"> <input type="hidden" name="cmd" value="_cart"> <input type="hidden" name="business" value="fhp@foothillspublishing.com"> <input type="hidden" name="item_name" value="Midst"> <input type="hidden" name="item_number" value="04-13"> <input type="hidden" name="amount" value="7.00"> <input type="hidden" name="shipping" value="5.00"> <input type="hidden" name="currency_code" value="USD"> </form>       </div> <bR> <div> <B>  </B><FONT SIZE="4" COLOR="#111111" FACE="Comic Sans MS" > <form target="paypal" action="https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr" method="post"> <input type="hidden" name="cmd" value="_cart"> <input type="hidden" name="business" value="fhp@foothillspublishing.com"> <input type="image" src="https://www.paypal.com/images/view_cart.gif" border="0" name="submit" alt="Make payments with PayPal - it's fast, free and secure!"> <input type="hidden" name="display" value="1"> </form>  </FONT></div> <bR> <div> <A HREF="id42.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Ordering By Mail"><U>To order through mail</U></A><FONT SIZE="4" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Palatino Linotype" ><A HREF="id42.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Ordering By Mail"><U> c</U></A></FONT><A HREF="id42.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Ordering By Mail"><U>lick here.</U></A></div> <bR> </td> </tr></table></body>