(for Lynn Sukenick) She is the only go-go girl in Las Vegas with a white BMW with a chartreuse mohair bathrobe with dayglo pasties and monogrammed underwear She is the only go-go girl in Las Vegas with an emerald-green Ferrari with tulips in her fishtank Dunhill in her humidor onions in her glove compartment She…
No water drops over the lashed edge to ease the dry socket. The pale-veined year dies slower than a nerve, will not congeal. Each morning its lid thickens a hairbreadth, locks go limp as house plants, the tenants disappear indoors. Through film curtains they watch the ice cap creep down where a thin creek turns…
You may wonder why there are so few of us. It could probably be explained from the point of view of evolution regarding us as either freak mutations or freak adaptations. Besides it always seems to be a terrible life squalid or obsessive or sterile. Full of evasions of some reallife marriages. Marriages seldom occur…
The first time Jack had to hunt a whale he went about it all wrong. He'd never thought about it much, so his confusion came as no surprise when he woke up one morning with harpoons in his lashes. After he'd picked them all out he decided to walk down to the wharves and talk…
Two clocks out of synch watch faces of night drift by. One face, a lacquered saint, dredged up from a trunk, wrapped in virgin wool, black robes of justice trapped in the vault of a bank. An 18-karat guarantee of stainless steel and peerless dentistry, though you’d have to pry the mouth open to discover…
Bang! 1917 & a Victorian Milan. That bang was the Garcia Crespo works gone up from munitions, 400 women, their long hair gone, have gone up with 150,000 rounds. Vickers guns emplanted on the line stayed quiet for two days near Trieste. A company of Yugoslavs convinced themselves that peace had come, threw down their…
I I think I’m lying. Surely one nation divided implies another sad device of history, when I might have said road into ourselves and seemed friendly. This country nags me like a bad excuse, these critical days away from myself demanding accounts, looking at the future in my wife’s sharp face. II Rutledge, if I…
This is a bathroom/animal/castration story. Dianne and Drummond Hadley have a wildcat that was given to them by the guy that runs the Desert Museum in Tucson. It stands maybe two feet high and is really substantial if you're used to looking at housecats. It plays. If you pull a wad of paper on a…
No matter what’s the photograph, you’re the man in the center always making sense. Look through the family album, grandma’s first beau, the nice guy who, vaguely, disappeared. Dad in the leather flier’s jacket, a plane called ANZIO BELLE. In the background’s the waist gunner they chipped out of a pile of shells & frozen…
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