Before her death in December of 1993, Estelle Sirowitz ladled out the usual maternal advice--from wearing clean underwear (without holes), to believing in God, and keeping limbs inside windows of moving vehicles.The difference lay not in her delivery but in the recipient: her son Hal. Nearly fourteen years ago Sirowitz began turning his mother's advice into poetry--never showing her exactly what came of her ranting and raving about a ketchup jar: Deformed Finger Don't stick your finger in the ketchup bottle, Mother said. It might get stuck, & then you'll have to wait for your father to get home to pull it out. He won't be happy to find a dirty fingernail squirming in the ketchup that he's going to use on his hamburger.He'll yank it out so hard that for the rest of your life you won't be able to wear a ring on that finger. And if you ever get a girlfriend, & you hold hands, she's bound to ask you why one of your fingers is deformed, & you'll be obligated to tell her how you didn't lis