Translation of a German Zeppelin Poster
In 2 days over the ocean.
Article
Gemcrack
She is sitting in the car and I do my number. Looking down the sight I see an auriole fly to the right and left, all around in haloed flutters. Then it wavers like underwater noons, I have to split, my Uncle doesn’t wait. He says be back, be quick, be reverant. We pray for…
To the Savage Child
It must be hard to be a girl, Kamala. There are stories how you were stolen from the field, a baby, your mother hoeing far away as a she-wolf passed, took pity, lifted you by the scruff home to the den, raised you as the slow cub in her litter. A long time until you…
Contributors’ Notes
MASTHEAD Directors DeWitt Henry Peter O'Malley Coordinating Editor for This Issue James Randall Fiction Editors DeWitt Henry Tim O'Brien Associate Fiction Editor David Gullette CONTRIBUTORS M.M. ANDERSON is a discovery of Tim O'Brien's. She currently lives in Texas. JOHN ASHBERY'S current book is Self-Portrait in a Convex Mirror, which won both the National Book Award…
Nine Months in a Small Town
It is late afternoon, the Sunday before Labor Day. Paul looks over the classroom assigned to him and then goes outside, down the steps into summer heat and sun. In the middle of the dusty street, a girl with long legs leans into a car, talking with the driver. She balances on tiptoe and her…
The Fall
On this pavement I have fallen without grace, and I am looking into the eyes of a handsome blue stranger, who will not let me rise. He says an ambulance is coming. I may have broken a bone. But he is lying, and he knows that I can rise if I desire. This lady claims…
Win A Vigil
Welcome to our show How Funny Can You Get. Without saying or doing anything contestants must appear so clearly we can’t help laughing. Sit down, no jokes or lettuce tuxedos tolerated. Be yourself here. Don’t smile. When you think in an objective sense you are funny enough raise the right hand. If we laugh then,…
Notes on This Issue’s Issue
I was going round Manhattan . . . and I noticed a girl sitting all by herself on the other side of the deck – a girl of about thirty, wearing a shabby skirt. She was enjoying herself. A nice expression, with a wrinkled forehead, a good many wrinkles. I said to my friend, `I…
Ned
for S.H. Not once in forty years have I gone without a meal or slept without a roof over my head. I’ve known less deprivation than anyone I know. My father died two months before I was born, it is true, and my daughter passed away before she ever spoke a word. But it’s hard…