One of us would spot his horse, same white as his mustache, and word traveled on warm air. While he solicited orders at doors we stole pears from his cart, that battered gray board flatbed held together by luck. He was obsolete as promise. His apples felt firm green and his cherries were loaded with…
The Holston lolls like a tongue here, its banks Gummy and ill at ease; across the state line, Moccasin Gap declines in a leafy sneer. Darkness, the old voyeur, moistens his chapped lips. Unnoticed by you, of course, your mind Elsewhere and groping: the stuck clasp, her knees, The circle around the moon, O anything….
I don’t like watching the news. Today’s thefts have nothing to do with yesterday’s; there is no brotherhood of victims, no handshake of loss. It is as unexpected as love, and as private, indifferent as California to Iowa’s harvest queen. But the weather, earth’s continuing serial, binds us all with questions asked in every language:…
After three years, eleven months, and two days service, Corporal Fitzgerald re-enlisted for six years, collected a re-enlistment bonus and, that same afternoon, went to the bank in Oceanside and paid the balance of the note of his 1959 Chevrolet which was four years old. He had thought that would make him feel good, but…
Drawings Winners to be announced The prisoner. He had been in long enough, accused for others gain, tried by a court of men who had forgotten how to live, and convicted in innocence by a jury who were hungry for delicacies. In prison he was taught to appear guilty so he wouldn't suffer the hatred…
Two girls knit sweaters for Ricky Nelson. He promises both of them to wear the sweaters on Monday. The whole time they are on camera Ricky does not kiss either of the girls. The blank look in his eyes makes you think that he rips their insides apart with ground glass at night. When Ricky…
“You’ve got yore head up yore ass and it’s a good thing you got a cellophane navel to see where yore goin’,” says some dude by the jukebox. Many of us have learned this is not an insult. His vision is crystal clear: one part Roadrunner, two parts locker room hosanna, one part Donna in…
The pears fall hushed in the grass like fat pigeons. At first spotted careful as goldfish, a delicate bruise soon swallows their contours. On the boughs pears clench into yellow. (We ate slightly rotted pears as children, our tongues finding the sharp line between use & decay. Sometimes against the core, a worm like green…
How do you get to scream the world is good and we have only to lose ourselves in its goodness? Ask me in return and together we’ll question every man, woman and child we meet, and won’t it be the Lord’s Prayer if we all get up on our legs and shout out the question…
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