Point of View
1995-1996
Literary Editor
Holly Rushakoff
Art Editor
Jennifer Channer
Literary Advisor
Frank Edmund Smith
Art Advisor
Paul Andrew E. Smith
Literary Judges
Chas H i nners
Shannon Hogan
Katherine Marek
Donna Paterson
Marc Stone
Kathleen Struif
Art Judges
Chas H i nners
D. J. Levan
Holly Rushakoff
Cover Art
Front detail:
Chas Hinners
Aural Paranoia
felt tip pen
Back detail:
Kevin White
(161h" x 133'4")
Intensity (Drawn in)
color pencil
(11" x 14")
Professional Services
John Callahan, Photography
Stefan Adam, Photography
Viso-0-Graphic, Inc., Printing
,
Point of View, a publication of l iterary and visual creative works, is selected,
edited and produced by students. Sponsored by Student Activities, Wi l l iam
Rainey Harper Col lege in cooperation with the Liberal Arts Division.
Special thanks to John Callahan, Harley Chapman, Annie Davidovicz, Nancy
Davis, Julie Fleenor, Marlene Hunt, LeRoy Mattia, Jeanne Pankanin, Patricia
Paulford, Joan Young.
All
Copyright© 1996 Wil liam Rainey Harper Col lege.
rights to creative work belong to their respective creators.
Printed on recycled paper
@
Table of Contents
Literature
Gabriel Ballestas
36
Boom
Anthony A. Czebatul
20
Prized Peri (An American Story)
Gloria Farber
34
Track 8
Chas Hinners
42
Staring at the Floor
Tim Kane*
26
Muskellunge Fishing with Kurt Vonnegut
Tom Kropski
15
I'm the Ocean
Katherine Marek
18
Autumn Storm by Firelight
Jill Nowotarski
25
the 5:24
Donna Paterson
39
Computer Hell
Dana Prezembel
Bittersweet
4
Holly Rushakoff
40
Clot
Marc Stone
6
Snipe Hunt
**
2
Art
Jennifer Channer
38
Studs
Gloria Farber
Untitled
5
24
Untitled
Chas Hinners
13
Aural Paranoia ***
35
Autonomic Voyeurism
Heidi Russ
Untitled
14
33
Untitled
41
Self Portrait
Annette Stormont
44
A Whale of a Motor
Kevin White
19
Addiction
17
Intensity (Drawn in)
Winner of the Point of View Award*
Winner of the Vivian Steward Award**
Winner of the Ray Mills Award***
3
Dana Prezetnbe l
Bittersweet
In this dream, you
are peddling
on your new
electric blue
Schwinn Tricycle Model 2314
on unincorporated
Waverly Road-gravel
bouncing up
hitting the spokes
clink clank
clink clank.
Your white cotton sundress­
the one Auntie Cookie bought
from Sears Outlet
sways and flirts with your knee.
Strawberry Blonde pigtails
dance in the windjust like the red, blue and yellow
colored plastic ribbons
suspended from the handlebars.
June's sunlight radiates off the chrome
reflecting to your face.
You giggl e when it asks
"Where you headed?"
and you whisper . . .
"Far away from here."
'
4
'
Gloria Farber
Untitled
Black & White Photograph
(7" x 91/411}
5
Marc Stone
Snipe Hunt
"Delbert, you g et o n outside now,
named Elmer Fudd Stoke s , a name his
q u ick, an' wait for m e . " Elmer's voice
m other had decided o n a year after h i s
was a furious ru s h i n g whisper, and his
birt h , clai ming it h a d com e t o her i n a
mother began screami n g i n the
d ream . Much to the d isappointment of
backgro u n d .
h i s class m ates, he d i d not fudge his
"J u n ior, h ow many times I got t o tell
words delig htfu lly l i ke h i s namesake .
you, boy! Lil' Delbert can't do it h isself!
J u n i or came out seconds after h i m ,
You gotta help h i m!" Their mother's
dark eyes f u l l of rage . Blood leaked
s h rill d ru n ke n h owl rent the cool autum n
from his b u l bous nose, his torn lips
d u s k . Delbert went o u t back, t h e rusty
stai n i n g h i s c h i n . H e wal ked past
screen door slam m i n g s h ut behind h i m .
Delbert and Elmer and went straight for
H e sat on t h e stoop b e h i n d their trailer
the truck. H i s leather jacket creaked
h o m e , fists tucked under his chubby
and m oaned with every a n g ry step . The
chi n , e l bows o n his knees. The sky was
door squeaked loudly as he opened it,
darken i n g shades of g ray as n i g ht fel l ,
and he p u l led it s h ut with a crash . Elmer
and h i s cheeks g rew rosy with col d . The
stuffed the parka into his little brother's
arg u i n g had gone from yel ling to h itti n g ,
arm s , g rasped h i m by the shoulders
slaps wri n g i n g off h i s oldest brother like
and marched h i m toward s the truck. He
g u n s hots. E l m e r's voice emerged,
opened the door and l ifted Delbert in,
whi n i n g , plaintive.
g etting in beside him and clos ing the
d oor. The truck started on the third try,
" H e's sorry Ma! I'll help Delbert!
H o nest! He's sorry!" This was followed
and with a screech J u nior p ut it into
by several more flat cracks as his
gear and they d rove away.
mother h i t E l m er, the secon d oldest, the
"J esus C h rist, Buzz, what the hell are
med iator. Delbert stood u p and walked
you, a baby or somethi n'? Can't do shit
away from the house, h i s feet cru nching
fer yourse lf; that's fer damn s u re . "
"Don't call h i m that, J un ior. H i s
over a carpet of d ry g rass and loose
nam e's Del bert . "
stones. H e walked towards the pickup
truck that sat perhaps twenty feet from
"I'll call 'em whatever t h e hell I want,
the house. He turned and looked back,
E l mer. And don't you forget it. " There
the angry voices softened by d istance .
was violence i n h i s voice, and Elmer's
Warm orange g l owed from the windows
hand rose to stroke the hand prints on
of the wh ite metal box, and to a deaf
h i s cheek. Ma slappe d , but J un i o r would
man it wou l d have looked l i ke a happy
punch.
h o m e . The g rowi n g shadows hid the
"Yeah , Delbert, what t h e hell are you,
bare yard , patchy with weeds ; the
anyway? A crybaby?" E l m e r's voice was
scragg l y tree looked as if it were merely
suddenly scornfu l , knowing he was on
bare .
J u n ior's side. Delbert, who had been
He stood there for what seemed like
hold i n g back h i s tears since Elm e r had
a long time, co ld because he had
th rust h i m outs i d e , now began to sn iffle,
forgotten h i s jacket. Elmer came
the first d rops slipping down h i s cheeks.
bang i n g out of the house carrying the
After a few m o ments h e was crying
tiny beaten parka, weari ng his own thin
outright, face wet, nose clogged with
jacket that they had gotten out of the
phlegm.
same charity box last C h ristmas. H i s
"Quit cryin', B uzz. I g o t a n idea. Me'n
eyes were p uffy and wet, p i n k
E l m e r are gonna take you on a snipe
hand prints marking h i s face. H i s red
hunt."
Del bert looked u p a t J u nior th rough a
hair was so short h i s white scalp
showed throug h , and h i s ears stuck out.
s parkle of tears, seei n g the earnestness
H e was u nfortu n ate enough to be
on his face . Then he looked over at
6
E l mer, seeing only puzzlement on h i s
be n i n e come M a rch . I d ri nk lotsa milk
freckled face. Delbert stopped crying,
an' Yoo-H o o , s o I ' m real stro n g . "
wiped h i s nose o n the sleeve of h i s
Delbert puffed o u t h i s scrawny chest
parka. Elmer h a n d e d h i m a crusty
and tried to th ink as if he was big, trying
handkerch ief, so Delbert cla m ped it
to s h ow J u nior that h e was at least as
over his nose and blew, feel i n g m uch
strong as E l mer.
"I don't know there , Buzz. You reckon
better.
you cou l d catch a snipe in a sack a n '
"Yu p , a s n ipe h u nt's j ust the thing fer
brothers on a col d nig ht. Snipe are
hold o n t o it ' t i l m e o r Elmer gets there
ru n n i n ' this time a year. It's the mati n '
to tie it off?"
"Oh s u re , I ain't afraid of no snipe, n o
seaso n . "
sir." Delbert f e l t confident n o w t h a t they
"Ye a h , " Elmer s a i d , warming t o the
idea. " Bet we cou l d get a couple big
would let h i m h e l p . It did not occu r to
s n i p e , if we had someone to catch 'em . "
h i m that he had never seen a snipe,
had n o idea what one looked like. H i s
"Mr. Frye wou l d p a y eighty-five cents
a pou n d , not includin' the skin s . We
h e a d w a s filled with thoughts of
cou l d p robably m ake ten dollars . " J unior
Yoo-Hoo a n d sweets, an instant cure
looked over at E l mer, tipped h i m a big
for a sad l ittle boy.
"We l l , h e re's the deal Buzz," J u nior' s
wink. "You know anyone who'd wanna
voice w a s a uthoritative , strong. "We
make ten d o l lars with us?"
g o n n a go u p to D i p per's Ridge. Soon as
" I d u n n o , J u n i or. " Elmer looked at
J u n ior, seeing a double meaning in h i s
we find a good s pot, me an' Elmer will
brother's s t u m p y face. J unior was by far
set you u p with a gunny sack a n d put
the u g l iest of the three, with features
you i n place. Then , m e an' him are
that looked as if they had been hacked
gonna beat the bushes, d rivin' out all
out with a d u l l hatchet. A rash of
them fat s n i p e . M i n d you don't g ra b no
p i m ples studded h i s ski n , and h i s lank
ski n ny ones. M r. Frye don't buy no
black hair hung in his eyes.
ski n n y s n i p e . G otta h ave meat on 'em,
okay?"
Little Delbert had been watching h i s
"What do a s n i pe look l ike, J u nior?"
two brothers talk, fl ipping h i s h e a d back
"Are you gonna ask a b u nch of d u m b
and forth l ike a l u m py metronome. N ow
b a b y q uesti o n s , Buzz? 'Cause if you
he spoke .
a re , we cou l d g et somebody else to
"Me! I wan n a m ake ten dollars . I ' d
buy Yoo- Hoo a n ' g umballs an' com i c
catch them s n i p e . How could a boy
books a n ' Yoo- Hoo an' a big i c e cream .
g rowi n ' up in Texas not never seen no
With s prinkle s . A n ' nuts . "
snipe before? Gosh!"
"Yeah , Delbert. Everybody knows
"You d rink that m u c h Yoo- Hoo a n d
you ' l l g et a bellyache for s u re , " Elmer
s n i pe got brown fur. An' teeth . What are
s a i d . H e stil l h a d n't fig u red out what
you , a d u m b b aby?"
"Shut u p , E l m e r. Look, Buzz, all you
J u nior was up to, but a s long as the
g otta d o i s open the sack an' hold it
joke wasn't o n h i m , he was wi lling to
•
play along. Elmer was of the opinion it
near the g ro u n d . When the snipe go
was better to g ive than receive,
ru n n i n' by you just h o l d the sack so they
especially when it came to someone as
run i nto it. You g ot it?"
"Sure , J u n ior. Whatever you say.
m a l icious a s J u n ior.
Then we g et to buy Yoo-Hoo, right? A
"You ain't gonna make ten dollars , I
said we're gonna make ten dollars. But
whole bottle to m e , right? An' a comic
you're jist a baby, not big enough to
book?"
" lf'n you catch some good ones,
catch n o s n i p e . So I guess you ain't
s ure , B uzz. A whole bottle for you . "
gettin ' n o Yoo- Hoo a n d com i c books
after a l l , h u h ? O n account of you bein' a
J u nior s m i l e d , a n d s o d i d Delbert.
baby."
" I ' m not n o baby, h onest! I ' m gonna
but he wasn't s u re why he was smiling.
Elmer saw them s m i li n g and s m i led too,
7
A l l he rea l l y knew was that p icking on
you say they look l ike again?"
Del bert beat having M a whip h i s ass.
Delbert snugg led in between his
B l a ck nose , " J u nior paused, trying to
brothers, enjoyi n g their warmth. Elmer' s
think what a s n i p e woul d look l ike. "Four
bony fra m e dug into Delbert's soft flesh ,
paws , teeth . . . an' a long tai l . Like so."
" B rown fur, fou r legs, kinda . . . squat.
s o h e s n ug g l ed m o re towards J un ior.
He held his hands a foot a part. "You got
He could smell J u nior; m otor oil , sweat,
to watch out for that tai l , make sure you
a n d J u icy Fruit. The truck bounced and
get it all in the sack. M r. Frye only pays
crun ched d own the d i rt roads , headed
if it's a whole s n i p e . You wa nt a
for Dipper's Ridge.
Yoo- H oo , right, Buzz? Spiderman comic
O n ce they were halfway u p the ridge
book, m aybe?"
they could see La G ra n g e , the lig hts of
" N ot n o Spiderm a n . The P u n i sher."
the s m a l l town a feeble flicker
Delbert puffed out his chest again,
com p a red to the starry g littering whorls
prete n d i n g h e was h u g e l ike the
that filled the sky. Between them and
P u n i sh er.
town they cou l d see their house, a tiny
"I fig u re we' ll park h e re an' h ike a
whitish- o range b l i p in the yawn ing
ways. We need to find a real good
black patch outside of town . As he
spot." J u nior killed the engine and the
looked at it J u nior could p i cture their
brothers tumbled out of the truck. It was
mother passed out o n the sofa, worn
raw cold o n the slope of the ridge, the
out from beati n g h i m , too d runk to stay
pungent air freezi ng the hairs in their
awake. He looked down at Delbert, h i s
noses. Wispy clouds of breath hung in
head clotted with thoughts o f revenge.
the a i r near their mouths. J u nior
H e could not hit h i s mother, every good
g rabbed a b u rl a p sack , sti l l wet from the
last rai n , out of the back of the truck. He
son knew that. But that didn't mean he
had to be n i ce to her precious little
handed it to Delbert with a ritual a i r, the
d u m b baby. As this occurred to h i m his
way a fathe r would g ive an heirloom to
face stretched i nto a l upine grin which
his s o n . Delbert accepted it somberly,
h u rt h i s split l i p s , exposing bad teeth .
g ri p p i n g it with fleshy fingers a l ready
Delbert looked u p and saw the pale
turning n u m b from the col d . The rou g h ,
g ri n n i n g cou ntenan ce , caked with d ried
half frozen b u rl a p scratched h i s h a n d s ,
blood . Som eth ing instinctual made him
m aking him u n comfortable, but he b i t
afraid of J u n ior, the way a rabbit is
the inside of h i s cheek and tried to
afraid of a fox.
i g n o re it.
"What's M r. Frye do with the snipe,
The three b rothers set off along the
J un i o r?" H e hadn't really cared before,
rid g e , boots thumping o n hard groun d ,
but now Delbert wanted to know.
the occasional stray leaf getting
"Wel l don't you know, Buzz? What
crushed underfoot. Their breath came
you think they make them Shakey's
q uicker now, three little engines
h a m burgers out of, a nyways? Fried
chugging along the ridge. Delbert
m onkey m eat?"
struggled m i g htily to m atch h i s brothers'
"I . . . I thought they were hamburg s . "
stride at first, not wanting to fall behind,
" H a m b u rg ain't noth in' b u t a fancy
but h e kept tri p p i n g o n the long cl u m sy
name for snipe. J e s u s , Buzz. I ain't so
sack he carried. A ru nner of snot began
s u re you can h a n d l e this after a l l . I
to s lither from one nostril , a n d , despite
m e a n , everybody knows that hamburg's
severa l furious assaults by h i s sleeve, it
jist a fancy n a m e for s n i pe . Ain't that
continued to advance . Finally, h e tried
right, E l mer?"
to hold the s ack and wipe his nose
"Yu p . You're pretty d u m b , Delbert,
without sto p p i n g to d o so. H e pitched
you d on't know that. Everybody knows
that.
forward , feet a n d sack hopelessly
II
enta n g l e d . H e let out a m uffled cry of
"I knew that, I was just kid d i n ' . What
s u rp rise when h e h i t the g ro u n d , then
8
often in the s u m mer, to shoot squirrel
lay there in a h e a p , wondering if he was
a n d crow, or j u st to escape beatings.
hurt badly enough to warrant cryin g .
Those d ays the sky was beautiful blue,
"Shit , Buzz, y o u okay? El mer, get
that sack off h i m an' help h i m u p . "
d a p pled with craggy cotton clouds. The
J u n ior d i dn't really care if Buzz had
thicket wou l d be g reen a n d dense, red
broken his scrawny neck, but he had
d i rt showi n g thro u g h in a few bare
plans for the eve n i n g . Elmer took the
patche s . The sounds wou l d be
sack off his younger brother and pulled
overwh e l m i n g: bird s , b u g s , and
him to his feet, bru s h i n g stray bits of
beasties, a l l g o i n g about their daily
dead g rass off his chest. H e saw
forest lives.
Delbert's eyes beginning to sparkle with
N ow it was g rayish-brown , em pty,
fresh tea rs , a n d he knelt in front of h i m .
d evoid of l ife and love . There was no
"You all rig ht, Delbert? You h u rt? You
sound save for the win d , cutting its chi l l
afraid?" E l m e r' s voice was pitched low,
swath thro u g h stiff b ranches. Elmer
so J u nior wou l d n't h ear. H e d idn't want
strained h i s p rotrud i n g ears , trying to
anything bad to happen to Delbert, not
hear what J u nior h eard. All he could
really, beca u s e , if Delbert got hurt, then
hear was Delbert s ucki n g snot back u p
M a was s u re to whip his ass, whether it
h i s nose a n d h i s own beating heart.
was his fault or not.
"That' s s n i p e , s u re ' n uff. You stand
"My nose keeps run n i n ' . " Delbert's
h e re , Buzz . Take that sack an' hold it
voice was a practiced snivel. Elmer
off the g ro u n d l ike so." J unior tore the
patted h i s pockets, lookin g for the
sack from his h a n d s and demonstrate d ,
bandanna h e had let Del bert use
s h aking the sack so t h e m outh fel l
earl ie r.
open.
"Say, you still g ot my snot rag?" As
"What I gotta d o again?" The woods
soon as h e asked Delbert sheepishly
seemed s pooky and col d to Delbert,
produced the wadded h a ndkerchief
a n d h e was not so certai n h e wanted a
from one coat pocket.
Yoo- Hoo as badly as he thoug ht.
"Jeez, you d u m my! Why not use it
"You jist stand h e re an' hold the sack
the n ?" The s l i g ht concern that had been
l ike this. Me a n ' Elmer can do the rest.
in E l mer's voice earlier was now gone.
When you see one com e ru nnin', get
Little Del bert, as their m other called
'em."
h i m , was a d u m b baby, sometimes.
J un io r p ut Delbert i nto position, gave
"Are you two l ittle boys done wipin'
h i m a reassuri n g pat o n the back. He
each other' s noses? I ' d kinda l ike to get
g rabbed Elmer by the sleeve and
back to town 'fore M r. Frye closes up.
tugged him back towards the d i rection
Or maybe you two queer babies want to
of the truck.
wipe each other's butts?" J unior was
"You j i st stay rig ht there , Buzz. Be
thirty yards ahead of th e m , standing i n
d ri nkin' a Yoo-Hoo before you know it. "
a s m a l l patch of scru b oak. T h e trees
Then he a n d Elmer disappeared from
looked spidery , skeleta l , fra m i ng pale
·
J unior i n a crisscross of s hadows . As
sight.
J u nior headed straight for the truck,
they neared h i m the tangled d ry
Elmer followi n g l ike a clumsy pu ppy.
underg rowth tore at their legs,
"What's the g a m e , J u n ior? You
snatch i n g their shoe l aces , poking their
gonna let me in on it, or not?"
knees. J u nior was i n the center of the
"The g a m e is I got a bottle a Wild
dead copse o n the rid g e , listening to
Turkey, d u m bass. But Buzz' ll j ist tell Ma
the silence . As they neared h i m h e
we was d ri nkin' an' we'd get another
s h ushed them.
lickin'. That what you want?" Elmer
" D'ya hear that?" J unior held one
sole m n ly swu n g h i s h ead side to side,
fi nger to his lips, cu pping h i s ear,
chastised by the very thought of a
turn i n g i n a slow circle. They came here
beati n g .
9
"Then we leave the pretty boy on the
to u ncap h i s Yoo- Hoo outside the store,
ridg e , waitin' fer the snipe. J eez, what a
in the baking h eat, the fai nt hiss under
d u m b baby I ii' Buzz is. Waitin' to catch
the cap esca p i n g in the muggy air.
some snipe. Hear h i m , goin' on about
Tilting the bottle , tapping glass agai nst
Yoo-Hoo an' comic books? J eez."
teeth . Every time he drank Yoo- Hoo he
J u nior spit out a d i rty little l a u g h , snide
was a m azed by the bubbly chocolate
a n d s pitefu l . E l m e r laughed too,
flood which bathed h i s mouth, richly
laughed at what a d u m b baby Del bert
sweet and effervescent. Each swal low
was. Everybody knew there wasn't any
was p u re pleasure, decadent a n d
such th i n g as a snipe.
exotic. H i s ton g u e , the roof o f h i s
J unior l i berated the bourbon from
mouth , a n d h i s teeth wou ld a c h e from
underneath the front seat, climbed in
the frosty drink, coated with cool
a n d scooted over so E l m er could sit
chocolaty residue. Delbert felt a bout
next to h i m . I t was n't as cold inside the
Yoo- H o o the way some people feel
truck, the wind h owling in frustration
a bout Christ, or sex, or heroi n . They
outside because it could not reach
were meant to be together, Delbert and
them.
Yoo- Hoo.
Delbert stood i n the decayed woods
The s ack had s l ip ped to the ground,
with h i s sack, shivering and alone. H i s
h e l d l i m ply i n one s m a l l fist. .He wore a
n o s e tingled n u m bly, h i s ears felt dead .
faraway s m i l e on h i s face, m ucous
H e could even feel needles of frost
d ri p p i n g from h i s nose. H e was not a
sta b b i n g h i s cheeks and hands. As the
terribly i m a g i native boy, but he had
wind grew in i ntensity, silence slid off
conj u red the experience so perfectly in
the rid g e with nary a whisper. Trees
h i s mind that h e was a mazed he could
rattled their bony fingers in the sky,
th ink of someth i n g that made h i m feel
ras p i n g rou g h flesh against calloused
so good. He d i d n't even feel the
l i m b s . The n i g ht whistled like a banshee
sti n g i n g col d , he felt so good. Suddenly,
keen i n g for the dead, freezing and
the sack j erked from h i s g ra s p and he
em pty. H e thought of h i s brothers,
dove o n top of it, struggling to close the
d riving forwa rd the plentiful snipe; then
top before the s n i pe cou l d wiggle out.
"J u nior! E l m er! J u n ior! I got one! I got
h e thought of all the s u m mertime trips
he had made to M r. Frye's store. He
m e a s n i p e ! I g ot m e a s n i p e ! " J unior
s aw h i mself walking under the
took a big swallow from the bottle, his
l u m i n ance of those brill iant white
Adam's apple bobbing convu lsively. He
fluorescent tubes, blinded by the fierce
gasped, his eyes waterin g , and handed
reflection off the s h i n y tile floor. H e
the bottle to Elmer. Elmer took it,
strolled down long , colorful a i s l e s t o the
sn iffin g at the top d u biously. H e figured
col d case i n the back of the store. The
if it s m elled like that there was no way it
cases had a sooth i n g , al most magical
tasted good. J u nior saw h i s hesitancy
h u m , m u s ic to Del bert's ears . H e would
a n d scowle d .
open the case, h earing that gentle
" Y o u d on't w a n n a d rink, h o s s , y o u go
�eking sound, feeling the outrush of
rig h t u p o n that ridge an' sit with queer
refrig erated a ir, the h u m g rowing
baby B uzz. I d on't want n o queer baby
louder. Then slowly p u l l i n g out a bottle
sittin' in my truck wh ile I ' m d rinkin'."
"Ai n't your truck, it's Ma's . " This
of Yoo-H oo , a nother bottle clinking
s l ipped out before Elmer cou l d stop it,
happily to take its place .
The sack h u n g l im p l y in Delbert's
a n d h e fully expected the violent
hands as he d reamed, d renched i n
response h e got, flinch i n g before J unior
thoug hts of Yoo-H o o and s u m mertime.
could speak.
H e d i d not notice the win d had abated
"You see her h ere, queer baby? It's
with a stirri n g of leaves. He was too
m y truck when s h e a i n' t around, Fudd.
eng rossed in h a ppier thoughts . He liked
You better jist walk h o m e if you don't
10
want to d rink, I g u e s s . " He reached out
that. H e could still rem e m ber who sang
to take the bottle.
to h i m a n d cuddled him a n d d ressed
h i m i n clean Dr. Dento ns for a night' s
"I ain't walkin' home." Elmer took a
sleep. E l m e r could only think o f a
deep breath a n d swu ng the bottle u p ,
swal lowi n g a fiery m outhfu l . I t scalded
m other who scre a m e d , stinki ng of piss
his throat and b u rned his stomach. He
a n d booze, a m other with hard hands
s puttered and cou g h e d , making a face.
a n d a q u ick tem per.
"Ye a h . I guess she d eserves a
"Jeeeesus ! M a d ri nks that?"
J u nior l a u g h e d , satisfied now that
beatin' or two . It's j ist that. . . " J u nior
Elmer had d runk with h i m , and took the
squinte d , thinking about their m other,
bottle back.
the woman who had beat him an hour
before. H e knew s h e had l ived a tough
"What'd p reacher say, h e hear you
talki n' l ike that? M a wou l d wh i p you
l ife , tou g h as the d ry red Texas hardpan
good fer that. "
their trailer h o m e s at o n . She had been
"Yeah , well l ike you said, Ma ain't
young o n ce , and pretty, j ust as the
here. A n ' someday . . . " Elmer stopped ,
s ca brou s g ro u n d that made u p the front
realizing he had a l m ost said it.
yard h a s yielded a few s ickly weeds.
Both were past their p rime a n d going
"An' someday what?" Elmer looked at
the floor. "A n' someday what, Elmer?"
d own h i l l fast, noth i n g n i ce to look at.
J u nior leaned forward , breathi n g frosty
J ust a s the yard co uld blame too m uch
puffs of b o u rbon in the icy a ir.
s u n and too l ittle water, his m other
"I can't tell you. If I tell it won't come
cou l d b l a m e too much booze and too
few m e n .
tru e . "
" I t' s j i s t that t h i n g s were f i n e 'fore that
"Sure it wi l l . Them k i n d a th ings don't
count when two brothers is drinkin ' .
l ittle s notnose s h owed up. Didn't hardly
We're brothers, ain't we? H e l l yes! And
g et n o l icki n s 'fore the n . "
"Ye a h , yea h , rig ht. That don't mean
we' re d ri nkin ' , a i n't we?" J unior took a
slug from the bottle , wiping away h i s
she gotta h i t us, J u n io r. Havin' a d u m b
g ri m a ce with the back o f h i s hand. H e
baby l ike Delbert a i n ' t no excuse. Don't
thrust t h e bottle at E lm er, w h o accepted
make it rig ht."
it m eekly, taking a s m a l l s i p .
"Say we leave the dumb baby on the
" I reckon it's a l l rig ht t o tell you , bein'
rid g e ? Tell Ma we left 'em at the house,
brothers a n ' all. 'Sides, she beats on
went out s h i nin' for poss u m . Bet he'd
freeze to d eath afore h e made it back . "
you, too , rig ht?"
J u n ior' s t o n e was l i ght, joki n g , b u t h i s
" H e l l yes, she whomps on me!
More'n y o u , fer s u re . " J u n ior' s eyes
e y e s were seri o u s . H e j ust needed
gleamed with the excitem ent of learning
E l m e r' s a p p rova l .
"Ye a h , I reckon h e ' d freeze, sure ."
Elmer' s secret.
Elmer tried to think of the last beating
"Som e d ay I'm gonna be givin' the
whippins. An' we' l l j ust see who
he got that was not Delbert related. He
s€reams then. We gonna see who
couldn't think of any.
screams then, oh yeah . " E l mer's voice
" Let's leave ' e m h e re . " The silence
had g rown soft and deadly as he spoke,
that fol l owed Elmer' s agreement grew
his eyes u nfocused as he pictured it in
a n d festered for a few m i nutes , g rowing
his m i n d .
fat with s h a red a n d s ecret g u i lt. J u n ior
J unior was stu n ned b y t h e thought
spoke first.
"I fig u re we j ist sit h ere awhile, have
that E l mer, whom he had thought was a
sissy a n d a crybaby, wou l d harbor such
a few m o re snorts of Wild Turkey. Then
violent thoughts towards their mother.
we go h o m e . Ma'll be asleep, so we jist
Certa i n ly J u nior h i m self had thought
go to b e d . Tomorrow we j ist say 'Gee, I
about laying i nto the old hag when she
d on't know, M a , he was h e re when we
beat him, but h e loved h e r too m uch for
went to slee p . ' If we hold to that story,
11
Yoo- Hoo a n ' ice cream for m e , you bet!"
don't ch a n g e fer n oth i n ' , ain't no way
we'll get cau g h t . " J u nior grinned, proud
Delbert was tired but elated at his
of h i s q u ick thinkin g . Elmer gri n ned
tri u m p h , a n d he cou l dn't wait to show
back skeptica lly, n e rvo u s , worrying
h i s brothers what he had caught without
a l ready.
the i r help. He'd show them he wa sn't a
d u m b baby, after a l l . He swu ng the
" G i m m e a nother s ip of that. " H e took
the bottle , lifted it halfway to h i s lips,
sack in front of h i m , and it began to
and stopped .
con tort furiously, s h ifting and slithering
"What? Somethin' wrong? You don't
o n the g rou n d .
"See, it' s a . . . " T h e sack sprung ope n ,
wa n n a d ri nk?" J u nior was suspicious of
Elmer, curiou s about the look that
the boys' eyes all flew wide. They saw a
crossed h i s face . Like he had seen a
g l itter of frantica l l y s n apping teeth , a
ghost.
flash of brown fur, a g l i mpse of the
"Don't you hear that?"
wickedly long tai l . Ain't no s n ipe, J u nior
"Hear wh at?"
th o u g ht, s n ipe ain't real , jist made it up
"S h h h h h . Liste n . "
to scare the d u m b baby . . .
T h e p a i r s a t silent i n the truck,
Evelyn Stokes awoke on the tattered
l isten i n g . J u n ior was just about to get
sofa with a h a ngover. Weak sun l i g ht
mad at E l m er, tell h i m to quit screwi ng
flitted thro u g h the flyspeckled wi ndows
aro u n d , when h e heard it, carrying
a n d d a nced on the faded l i n o l e u m . She
fai ntly th ro u g h the n i g ht, floati ng i n ,
sat up, head fuzzy, tasting her to ngue.
I t was then that she n oticed l ittle Delbert
filtered thro u g h t h e window.
sta n d ing in the doorway, wearing his
"J u n ior! E l mer!" I t sounded like
parka , d i rty b u rl ap sack lying at h i s feet.
Delbert, way off in the d i stance, but
He looked as if he had taken a bath i n
getti n g closer.
"J u n ior! E l mer!"
red tempera pai nt. A rotten smell wafted
H ow the hell did he find h i s way
from the sack.
"What you been doin' , Delbert? Been
back , J u n ior thought. Usually Del bert
i n yer fi ngerpai nts? Why a i n't J u nior
got lost going to the bathroom .
watchi n ' you? J u n ior! That l azy snot, I ' l l
"Let's go see what the hell h e wa nts.
M aybe we can send h i m back up there,
w h u p h i s a s s . " T h e n she noticed the
then go home." Elmer nodded,
sack was movi n g .
"What's that, I ii' Del? Tell Mommy."
wonderi n g if deserti ng Delbert was the
same as m u rderi n g h i m . H e supposed it
Delbert just stood there, h is tangled hair
wasn't, s i n ce it wasn't h is fa ult if the
clotted a n d sticky. H i s mother asked
d u m b baby cou l d n't get home before he
a g a i n , s o u n d i n g i rritate d . Her i re moved
froze.
him to speak.
He a n d J u n ior hopped out of the
"Been s n ipe h u nti n ' , M a . " His voice
truck, n oticing it was much colder
was a papery whisper.
"Ain't no s uch thing as s n ipe. Them
outside. As they approached Del bert
*
they saw he was d ragging the sack
boys been fu n n i n ' you? Tel l me what's
behind h i m , carving a path through the
in that sack . " She raised her hand
d u sty g ro u n d . When he got closer they
threate n i n g ly, stopped when she saw
saw the sack was twisti ng and writhing,
the lack of fear in h i s eye s . Looki ng
tossing as if it h a d been brought to a
closer, s h e s aw it wasn't pai nt, but
boil on the i n s i d e .
b l oo d . The sack rustle d , then opened.
She screamed.
What's h e g ot there , J u n ior
wondere d . Coon? Possum? N either
Delbert d ragged the sack across the
seemed l ikely to be out i n th is weather,
tiny kitch enette, opened the fridge door.
even less likely to walk right i nto a
Yoo- Hoo bottles stood lined on one
g u n n y sack.
s h elf, silent brown pasteu rized sold iers
" I got o n e , I g ot one, I got one !
sta n d i n g g u a rd over old l eftovers. He
12
leftovers . H e took one and walked to
the sofa, leaving the door open,
d ragging the s ack with him. H e rubbed
the bottle a g a inst his cheek, not
m i n d i n g the red smear it left on the
glass. He curled u p o n the lap of h i s
m other' s still warm corpse, h o l d i n g t h e
bottle close to h i s ear as he twisted off
the cap, smiling at the crack-hiss. H e
d rank d e e p l y , s i g h i n g contentedly. H e
licked h i s l i p s , thinking o f s u m mertime,
M r. Frye's store, h i s brothers. And sn ipe
hunts.
,-�,
'
' .... ·:--. ,
,. >
'
'.
' 4<·-.....o'
,,,,
.;
Aural Paranoia
Felt Tip Pen
(16 1'211 x 133/411)
13
Heidi Russ
Untitled
G raphite
( 141'2" x 181'2")
14
Tom Kropski
I'm the Ocean
F ro m any d i recti o n , the view was the
so m a n y regrets.
s a m e . The s ky was g ra y and stretched
The bright light of the s u n woke J o h n
out in all d i recti o n s . As the eyes moved
Taylor. The s ky wasn't g ray. As the s u n
down , the g ray s ky gave way to the
rose o v e r the g reen horizon , the sky
g reen sea. N othi ng within miles, John
was a tangle of purples a n d reds and
Taylo r was a l o n e , stranded in the South
even o ranges. Eventually it all blurred
Pacific with n oth i n g m o re than the
a n d gave way to blue. But the blue
life-vest secured to his body.
d i d n 't last. Clouds rolled i n and blue
The sea was cal m . The cool green
was swallowed by g ray.
waters ri ppled fai ntly. Taylor gently
The sea was awake. Surg i n g waves
bobbed up a n d down in the pale
l ifted Taylor up a n d threw h i m down .
waters . This was a good thin g , though
There was no m o re gentle bobbing.
the p h rase "the calm before the storm"
Saltwater s p lashed i n h i s face as the
bounced a ro u n d h i s skull many times.
ocean assau lted him. The s ky was dark
Sharks were also a constant topic on
a n d he heard a thunderclap in the
h i s b ra i n . Three times Taylor could have
d ista n ce . Drops of rai n dove i nto the
sworn he had seen a d a ngerous gray
g reen waters all a ro u n d h i m . The d rops
fin slicing thro u g h the cool waters.
began to fal l heavier and Taylor was
Taylo r hated the idea of being eaten by
battered by the d roplets. The wind and
a shark. H u n d reds of sharp teeth,
waves conti n ued to spira l , tossing
knives, teari ng and ripping the s ki n .
Taylo r a bout. The s ky was split by a bolt
Blood s p i l l i n g i n to the oce a n . The lower
of blue lightn i n g . Taylor felt the rage
half of h i s body being torn from the
a n d a n g e r of the ocean and thought,
u pper. Starin g i nto the black,
" F u n n y , I feel the same way . "
d i s passionate eyes of the <Jcean's
When h e awoke t h e next morn i n g ,
perfect killing m achi ne.
Taylor caught m o re o f the su nrise than
M aybe it was just the thought of
he had the day before. The event was
being eaten al ive or the feel ing of total
peacefu l . The storm last n i g ht had been
isolati o n , but Taylor began to panic.
a rough one, but Taylor was still alive.
Scream i n g for help was going to
This was a con d ition which could not
acco mplish n oth i n g and he knew it. But
last m u ch long e r. Taylor had no food
he hated the thought of just bobbing u p
a n d no d ri n kable water. He felt h i s face.
a n d down i n the g e ntle waters , floating
H i s l i p s were b l istered and bleedi n g . H i s
a i mlessly, waitin g to be rescued .
face , n o d o u bt heavily s u nburn e d , was
Eventually, he traded screaming for
raw to the touch. A n d his vision was
sobbi n g .
b l u rry.
The s ky was d a rker. N ight was
Taylor looked at h i s forearm. A scar,
slid i n g d own across the s ky all a round
conveniently shaped l i ke an "s," ran
him. For five hours , J ohn Taylor had
from h i s wrist to a bout m id-arm . The
been bobbing up and down in the
details of how it got there were hazy,
tra n q u i l waters, a l l alone. Taylor fou n d it
but n ot forgotten . H i s father had been
painful to be alone with his thoughts.
teach i n g him how to rid e a bike. A
He thought a bout his life , his m i stakes.
m o n u me ntal day i n the life of any
I t seemed there were s o many. They
six-yea r-ol d . O n e wou l d , at least, expect
were mostly l ittle t h i n g s , events that
a fathe r to be sober for the event. H e
could have been avoided with a little
wasn't com pletely tanked; t h a t did n't
effort. Being careful wou ld have
happen till wel l-past noon.
prevented m ost. What was worse was
O n e good push was all it took. Taylor
that they were m istakes which had hurt
rem e m bered pedaling and then hurtling
others. It seemed a sha m e to die with
towards the pavement. A broken beer
15
bottle served to cut the arm severely
t o yel l i n g a n d what started with shoving
enough to n ecess itate stitches and
always turned to punch i n g . In the end, it
leave a scar. After the fall, his father
was the words which had hurt more;
immed iately scooped h i m up. And after
but, they were never taken back. And
an i nordi nate a m o u nt of apologizi n g ,
now Taylor cou l d never take them back.
p ro m ptly d rove h i m t o t h e hospita l . T h e
N ight tumbled down and J o h n Taylor
c u t healed; the memory n ever d i d .
had n oth i n g to do but sleep.
T h e s ky wasn't gray. I t was more o f a
It wasn't the s u n rise which woke
blue-white p u n ctuated by the yel low dot
J o h n Taylor th i s morn i n g , b ut a
of the s u n . The ocean was sti ll green,
comforting h u m a n d splashing waves
for the m ost part. Briefly, someth ing
from a s h i p ' s propel ler. Not m o re than
brushed Taylor' s l e g . A large shadow
thirty yards from where he bob bed i n
loomed under the water and the theme
the g reen water, a fi s h i n g boat drifte d .
to "Jaws" ra n g i n his ears. Panic was
i nevitable. Taylor was positive the h eart
T h ro u g h b l u rred vision, he watched a s
was n ever s u pposed to beat th i s fast.
about their business. Every part of
The s h adow circled a n d was gone.
Taylor' s body became energ ized and
the m e n tossed t h e i r nets and bustled
H o u rs had passed s i n ce Taylor's
electric. The thought he co uld now be
encounter with God-on ly-knows. As he
rescued i g n ited h i s bra i n . John Taylor
floated i n the pale water, J o h n Taylor
began to scream and yel l , splashing the
noticed someth ing in the di stance. The
water all a ro u n d h i m . H e watched as
object was s m a l l and bounced sunlight
the men aboard the craft p i n pointed his
i n h i s d i recti o n . H e began to swim
cries and began to m ove their boat in
towards the object. I t was a wi ne bottle,
his d i rectio n .
There was a note secu red inside.
At first, Taylor d i d n't real ize what that
"A m essage i n a bottle. This doesn't
h eat i n h i s stomach re presented . But
happen i n rea l life , " Taylor said to no
when his body began to jerk and the
one in particu lar. Taylor snapped the
h eat beca m e an i ntense pai n , he
wax seal and opened the bottle . He
understood that a s h a rk was clamping
qu ickly, though ca refu lly, retrieved the
down o n h i s torso with its h u n d reds of
message. He read the note, keeping it
teeth . Taylor' s cries for help did n't stop,
d ry as best as possible. Somewhere i n
they s i m p ly gained a new u rgency.
San Diego, M rs . J e n ki n' s sixth grade
Frantically, he h a m mered the deep g ray
class had written the letter, i n hopes
skin of the s h a rk with his fists; but the
that it wou l d reach Hawaii or someth i n g .
razors conti n ued to s h red soft, pink
Every student h a d left a message for
fle s h . Taylor located the b lack, uncaring
whoever was to d iscover the bottle, if it
eyes and atte m pted to gouge at the m .
was d i scove red at a l l . It was dated J u ne
The s hark' s teeth conti n ued t o cleave
1, 1985.
thro u g h m u scle and si new. Taylor
Taylor d i d some qu ick figuring in h i s
watched the g reen waters become
head. T h o s e kids w o u l d proba bly h ave
tainted with his blood. N ow the water
g raduated h i g h school and been i n
was thick a n d b lack.
college by n ow. H i g h school grad uati o n .
Vision fadi n g i n and out, Taylor
T h a t w a s the last ti me Taylor had seen
watched as the fis h i n g vessel pulled up
the old m a n . H i s father had stu m bled
n ext to h i m . The pain i n h i s stomach
i nto the ceremony, a n hour late and had
was subsid i n g , as was all feeling i n the
obviously begun ce lebrating early.
lower half of h i s body. As the shark
"Mean d ru n k" was always a term
con ti n ued to tear and ri p at Taylor's
which a p p l ied to Taylor' s father.
fles h , the fishermen reached in
Because of this fact, there were
desperation to p u l l Taylor from the
i ncidents. There were always i n cide nts .
bloody waters; h owever, their efforts
What started with talki n g always turned
wou l d go u n rewarded . And as J oh n
16
Taylor teetered between this world and
the next, h e thought that the whole
p rocess was n't nearly as pai nful as he
had imagined.
Kevi n White
Intensity (Drawn in)
Color Penci l
(11" x 1 4")
17
--- --· ·· --
--·---··-· ·-- ·--
-- .
-·
'--- -
Katherine Marek
Autumn Storm by Firelight
A flash of l ightning rips across the sky.
We huddle close beneath the trembl ing eaves
As thunder roars a nightmare lul laby,
And strips the trees outside of summer leaves.
The fire is warm. Its light is warmer sti l l .
A gentle beacon holding back the dark.
Yet, in the l ight of day, we know we wil l
Deny the fearful pounding of our hearts.
The ancient wonder once again is near,
The fury of the storm awakes our past
When gods and nature both were to be feared,
And spells of warding were by fire cast.
An autumn storm returns us to that place
When nature's glory awed the human race.
18
19
Anthony A. Czebatul
Prized Peri (An American Story)
of turn i n g it over to a leper colony who
G ifford City has n ow been
depopulated by a gasoline explosion. It
have filed a n a p plication with the
was a b i g news story for about a week
i n cu m bent G overnor of Texas . Word
or so. It m ight have been a bigger story,
has it that the G overnor is pla n n i n g to
a signal for the com m encements of a
turn them flat down . He state d , " . . . a
m aj o r world war, if the a uthorities hadn't
new b u nch of a n i m a l s wouldn't m a ke
acknowledged at o n ce that the gasoli ne
for safe a dj o i n i n g com m u n itie s . "
was refin e d by Texan s and n ot Arabs.
There i s a n ewly b uilt a rts center
O n e newscast heard i n New York City
there. If this s u pposedly ' co m m un ist
called it "a s i m ple Texas mess . "
b o m b' that the n eighbori n g townspeople
The official story i s that a n American
believe it to b e , were going to knock
truck was tra nsporti ng this American
over a nything , it would have been the
gasoline o n the freeway , and someone
G overnor Hogg Center for the Arts, (It is
threw a lit cigarette. There was this
ru m o red that G overnor Hogg once
flash. It was an acci dent, supposedly.
strolled through the streets of Gifford
The truck, if there really was a n
City, thus giving the Arts Center a n
A merican truck; loca l s have suspicions
a p p ropri ate n a m e ) , s i n ce it looks so frail
of a com m u nist bomb; seems to have
a n d exposed-a white stuccoed mobile
been right o p posite the n ew G ifford
trailer on fou r slender stilts in the m iddle
M otel a n d the M ighty G ifford Chevrolet
of a n old cow field called Evergreen
Center when the explosion went off.
Pla i n s .
I t h a s never b e e n u s e d . The walls of
Everybody in Gifford City was killed,
including ten men awaiting execution on
its galleri e s are bare . What a delightful
death row i n the Ad ult Correctional
opport u n ity it would represent to
Facility i n H un tsville. Steve Mitchell
struggling p a inters a n d sculptors of the
certa i n ly lost a lot of acquaintances all
world .
at once.
Texan s speak 'Texa n , a Southern
But most of the structures i n G ifford
d ialect hitched u n to American E nglish
City are still left sta n d i n g a n d furnished.
which has o nly a present tense. I have
Confid entially, Steve has g iven away
lived i n Texas for two years , so I can
i nformation that every one of the
speak it some.
television sets i n the new G ifford Motel
Steve M itchell is a n I n n keeper now.
is still fully operable. So are all of the
H e bought the new Gifford Motel, a
telephon e s . So is the a utomatic
fin e structure of the eighties made of
ice-cre a m scooper behin d the .bar. All
glass a n d chro m i u m steel.
those sensitive d evices were only a few
I magine a language with only a
thousand yard s from the source of the
present tense. Steve's headwaiter,
flash.
S a m u el Raws, affectionately known as
So n obody lives in Gifford City,
S a m , who cla i m s to be a n octogenarian
Texas , anymore. A bout ten thousand
and has seventy-n i n e descendants
people d i e d .
asked Steve a bout his father.
H ow could Steve a n d his b rother
" H a y is d ad?" he said in Texan .
Fra n get out of asking this question:
" H e i s d e a d , " Steve agreed. There
' Does it m atter to a nyone or anything
could be no a rg u ment a bout that.
that all those peoples were struck down
"Wat does hay do?" he said.
so suddenly?' S i nce all the property is
" H e paints , " Steve replied.
virtually u n d a maged, has the world lost
" l ' s like hi m , " he said.
anythi n g it loved?
This witty conversation rolled on as
Gifford City isn't radioactive. N ew
they prepared the evening's specialty
people could m ove right i n . There is talk
for the Gifford M otel d i ner.
20
Texas Fresh Brisket in Coconut
morn i n g , "-it w a s b a d enough that we
were the richest kids in town , and
Cream Bar-8-Que Sauce:
everybody was having such a hard
Put two cups of grated coconut in
ti m e , a n d there was all this rusty
cheesecloth over a bowl. Pour a cup of
mixed bar-b-que sauce and hot milk
medieval stuff h a n g i n g from the ceilings
over it, and squeeze it dry. Repeat this
and wal l s , as though it were a torture
with two more cups of cold milk. The
cham ber. Could n't we at least have had
stuff in the bowl is the sauce. Mix a
a father who d i d n't say "Heil H itler," to
pound of sliced onions, a teaspoon of
everyone, including ltsy Karian?"
About h ow much money the
salt, a half teaspoon of black pepper,
M itchell's h a d , even though the Great
and a teaspoon of crushed pepper.
Depression was going on: Their father
Saute the mixture in butter until soft but
sold off a ll of h i s M a rcus Drug Company
not brown. Add five pounds of fresh
stock i n the 1920s , so when the
brisket and cook them for about ten
ever-active chain fel l apart d u ri n g the
minutes on each side of the meat with a
Depressi o n , it m eant noth i n g to h i m . He
high flame. Pour the sauce over the
bought I B M stock, which acted the way
brisket, cover the pan, and simmer for
he d i d , as though it did n 't even know a
fifteen minutes.
depression was going on. A n d M rs .
Uncover the pan and baste the
M itche l l still h a d a l l the b a n k stock she
brisket until it is done-and the sauce
had i n herited from h e r father. Beca use
has become creamy.
of all the pri m e rich land it had acquired
Serves eight vaguely disgruntled
thro u g h foreclosure s , it was as good as
guests.
gold. T h i s was d u m b luck.
I ma g i n e a language with only a
It was a soda fou ntain cou nter as
present te nse. Or imagine Steve
much as the Depression that wrecked
M itchell's father, who was wholly a
the dynamic Marcus chai n . Pharmacies
creature of the past. To all practicality,
have n o busi ness being in the food
he spent m ost of his adult life, except
business, too. Leave the food busi ness
for the past twenty-two years , at a table
to those who know and love it.
i n a Berlin cafe before World War I. H e
One of Mr. M itchell's favorite jokes ,
w a s forever twenty-five years old or so.
as Steve a n d Fran remember was
H e could write beautiful stories and
'
about the boy that fl u n ked out of
paint lovely p i ctures. H i s attitude
p h a rm acy school. He did n 't know how
towa rds i m p ortant decisions was thrown
to m a ke a g ril led cheese sandwich.
to the wind. He was a l ready a lover and
There is stil l one Marcus Drugstore
a philosopher a n d a nobleman.
left in Gifford C ity. It certa i n ly has
I don't t h i n k that h e even noticed
noth i n g to d o with Steve or Fra n , or with
Gifford City or H u ntsville before the
a n y of their rel atives , wherever they
explosi o n . I t was as though he were
may be. The only recogn izable
caught up i n h i s own g alaxy, with the
expl a n ation is that it is part of a cute,
atmosphere of prewar Berlin inside. He
old-fash i oned urban renewal scheme
u sed to speak so inappropriately to
put forth by downtown Gifford City.
Steve's friends and playmates,
H o u ston Street in downtown Gifford is
whenever Steve was fooli s h enough to
b ricked and the old i ron streetl ig hts are
bri n g them h o m e .
electric.
At least Steve's brother, Fra n , d i d n't
And there is a n old-fashioned pool
go thro u g h what Steve went through
hall and an old-fashioned saloon and
when h e was i n junior h i g h school. Back
a n old-fashioned firehouse a n d a n
then , their father u sed to say "Heil
old-fash i o n ed d ru g store with a soda
H itler" to Steve's g uests, and they were
fou ntain counter. Somebody found an
expected to say "Heil H itler" back and it
old sign from Marcus Drugstore, and
was a l l supposed to be such hearty fu n .
they hung it u p a g a i n .
" M y G awd , " Steve said the other
21
They have a n old neon s i g n , which
A n d the c h i ld was expected to
doesn't light up anymore but sings the
a n swer.
M r. M itchell had m ixed G reek and
praises of Castor O i l . Nobody really
stocks Castor O i l anymore-it was so
Pers i a n mythology. Daedalus certai n ly
horrible tasti ng! The sign is just a joke.
had given the golden wings but the
But they h ave a m odern Formica
' Peris' were d i sobedient angels, doing
prescri ptio n cou n ter, where you can get
pena nce until rea d m itted i nto Paradise.
On h i s deathbed at the local medical
val i u m s , barbitu rates, Quaaludes and
aspiri n s .
By t h e time Steve was old e n o u g h to
facil ity, when M r. M itch e l l was listing all
bri n g friends h o m e , Mr. M itchell had
been wonderful with child re n , that they
h i s virtues , h e said that at least he had
stopped m e ntio n i n g H itler to anyone.
all found h i m a lot of fun . 'I understand
That m u ch about the present had got
the m . ' h e a n n ou n ce d .
thro u g h to h i m , anyway: the subject of
M r . M itch e l l was about t o g ive h i s
H itler and Ge rmany's n ew order
m ost d u m bfo u n d i n g and inap propriate
seemed to m ake people's blood boil
g reetin g , h owever not to a chi l d but to a
with each passing day, so M r. M itchell
young wom a n named M u ri e l l a
had better find something else to talk
C l e m e n t e . S h e w a s a h i g h school
a bout.
sen ior, a s was Steve's brother-and
M r. M itche l l assumed that Steve's
Fran had i nvited her to the sen ior pro m .
playmates were thoroug hly familiar with
T h i s wou l d h a v e b e e n i n t h e early
Wag n eria n Opera , Goethe's Faust,
s prin g of 1944.
Cervante's Don Quixote , Greek
Fran was p resident of h i s senior
mythology and legends of King Arth u r's
class-beca u se of that deep voice of
Rou n d Table and the p lays of
h i s . Fran was i n the m id st of erotic
Shakespeare and on and on-all of
catastro p h e , to which he made Steve
which were no doubt lively subjects i n
h i s privy, altho u g h he was you ng er.
Berlin cafes before World War I .
Irreconcilable differences had come
S o M r . M itchell m i g ht say to a
betwee n h i s sweeth eart, Susan Sweller,
te n-year old d a u g hter of a tool-checker
and Susan had turned to Joe Pierce,
over at J o h n Deere Plow,
the captai n of the baseball tea m , for
"You look at me as though I were
consolati o n . S u s a n rumored to several
M e p h i stop heles. Is that who you th i n k I
classmates of Fran's affecti on towards
am? H u h ? Eh?"
h i s gend er.
Steve's g uest was expected to
This left the president of the class
a n swer.
without a d ate for the prom, and at a
Or he m i g ht say to a son of a
ti m e when every Texan g i rl of social
garbage co llector, offeri ng h i m a chair,
i m portance had been s poken for.
"Do sit i n the Siege of Perilou s , young
Fran m a d e a sociolog ical m aster move.
m a n . O r d o you dare?"
Fran a n n o u n ced to the M itchell fam i ly at
A l m ost all of Steve's l ittle friends
breakfast o n e morn i n g that he asked a
were chil dre n of uneducated parents i n
g i rl who was at the bottom of the social
h u m b le j o b s , s i n ce t h e neigh borhood
order, whose parents were ill iterate and
had gone d own h i l l fast, after the elite
u n e m ployed , who had a brother in
and rich m oved away, with the
prison and a s i ster i n j a i l , who received
exceptio n of Mr. and M rs . M itche l l .
very low g rades a n d engaged i n no
Mr. M itchell m i g ht s a y t o another one,
extracurricular events, but who,
" I a m Daed alus! Would you l i ke me to
n o n etheless , was o n e of the prettiest
give you wi n g s so you can take flight
young wom e n a nybody had �ver see n .
with m e a n d the other Peri angels? We
I ndeed, the 'Yellow R o s e o f Texas!'
can j o i n the b i rd s and m i g rate to South
H e r fam i l y was white, b ut they were
A merica with them! But we m ustn't fly
so poor that they lived in the Black
too close to the s u n , eh? Eh?"
section of tow n . Also, the few boys from
22
school who had tried to trifle with her,
of the C hevy. The remainder of the
despite h e r social sta n d i n g , had spread
M itchell fam i l y peered throug h the large
the word that, n o matter what she
wi n d ows of the living room to witness
looked like, she was as cold as a
Fran's d ate selectio n-another boy and
'Ya n kee b l izzard . '
not M u riella Cleme nte. M r. M itch e l l ' s
This was M u riella Clemente.
determ i n ation cast aside h i s confusion
So she cou l d n't have had the scant
and conti n u ed with his well thought out
expectation of being invited to the
and practiced g reeti n g with the foyer of
senior p ro m . But m i racles do happen. A
the house as a n echoing cham ber:
"Let H e l e n of Troy come forward-to
new C i ndere l l a is born now and then.
One of the wealth iest, most h andsome
claim this a p p l e , if she d a re ! "
boys i n tow n , and the president of the
T h e b o y stayed right where h e was.
senior class , n onetheless, asked her to
He was petrified . A n d Fra n , having
the senior p ro m .
al lowed things to go this far, was fool
S o a few weeks prior to t h e p ro m ,
enough to th i n k that maybe his d ate
Fran g loated h ow beautiful M u riella
could g et out of the car a n d accept the
Clem ente was , a n d what a n i m p ression
apple to m ove th ings along-so he and
he was going to land o n the class when
the boy could leave h i s father's
he appeared with a movie star on his
l u n a cy-even tho u g h there was no way
a rm. Everyo ne there was supposed to
the boy cou l d h ave any idea what was
be the fool for having i g n o red M u rie l l a
going on.
f o r so l o n g .
What d i d this h a n dsome blonde boy
And M r. M itchell heard all th i s , and
know of H e l e n of Troy and apples? For
noth i n g wo uld do but that Fran b ring
that matter, what d i d M r. M itchell know?
M u riella by, o n the way to the p rom, so
H e had the legend all g arbled . Nobody
that M r. M itch ell could see for h i m self if
ever gave H e l e n of Troy a n apple-not
M u riella was as beautiful as Fran said.
as a prize, a n yway.
Fran a n d Steve had g iven u p
b ri n g i n g g uests home f o r any reason
whatsoever. But in this i nstance M r.
M itch ell had a means for compelling
Fran to introd uce M u riella to him. If Fran
wou ld n't do that, then Fran co uld n't use
the car that n i g ht. H e and M u riella
wou l d h ave to ride the bus to the senior
pro m .
So Fra n s e t o u t t o the other s i d e of
town to fetch h i s prized M u riella. As
they d rove u p the d u sty road to the
M itchell's estate , a rathe r large
ra n ch-house, Mr. M itchell ran out of the
house and onto the porch to g reet his
visito r.
M r. M itch ell stepped out from behind
a vertical tim ber, the very one that had
mashed h i s rig ht toes so long ago. He
was o n ly a yard o r two from Fra n , and
he held out a n apple i n h i s h a n d .
Stu n n e d , Mr. M itchell glanced a second
time to see a very handsome,
blonde- h a i red boy with extremely white
teeth s m i l i n g up at h i m . The boy could
see M r. M itch e l l thro u g h the windshield
23
Gloria Farber
Untitled
Black & White Photograph
(7 1/4" X 93/a")
24
J ill Nowotarski
the 5 : 24
lick my finger, touch the track
hot . . . hot. . . hot . . . cool
found one
between the paral lels
when night decides to join me
feet stretched out
crossed on cold, hard steel
a factory's machine
the smell of heat in the distance
with clouds of si lver, white,
gray smoke
tossi ng pebbles to the 3rd
track
making pi les; dividing; separating . . .
rocks thrown about
people transported
my foot in its rhythmic tapping
constant movement; anticipation for stronger
*
*
*
*
*
*
here it comes-the 5:24
force and speed
speed and force
nothing in its path-except
the pebbles i've thrown
minute after m inute
i've waited for 1 0 seconds of power
. . . it approaches with dominance
and courage
stands up proud
taunting the bushes and shrubs
mouth opens/eyes shut
subconsciously
face crinkles up l i ke a raisin
prepared to let go
it passes with quite a speed
different somehow when you're four feet away
dangerously close . . . and
about to let go
25
Tim Kane
Mus kellunge Fishing with Kurt Vonnegut
referred to A m e ri ca's students as
Northern Wisco n s i n sends me. Now,
n u mskulls a n d under-educated
in the dead of winter, I can recall
without the least bit of difficulty the
n i n co m poops. The college kids and
breezy voice of J u n e filteri ng through
faculty applauded. They cheered. They
tangled l i m b s of quaking aspens and
had n ever before heard current events
white pine, over cool sti l l lakes, between
reported with such terse eloquence ,
knotty-pine taverns, circu mventing
with s uch n aked candor. A n d w h o was
deep-wood trash d u m ps that seem
to b l a m e for A merica's mora l downward
perpetua l l y populated by pan-handling
s p i ra l a n d a d ecade of appalling g reed?
black bears, raccoons a n d s kunks. The
Vonnegut asked rhetorically. The blame
June b reeze chases away pockets of
fel l o n the shou lders of the current
winter's l i n geri n g ch i l l but beckon s me
pol itical a d m i n istrati o n .
l i ke a s i re n , saying: "Come back, Wally
Followi n g the lecture, Vonnegut met
Brock. Bri n g your fis h i n g stuff. And
rep o rte rs , cam pu s pundits and
don't forget liquid refreshment."
s u burban i ntelligentsia at a special
reception in the faculty lounge.
Al most every year since h i g h school
my friend Bri a n and I take a two-week
Teache rs from the college had
vacati o n . We head up to Lake
swarmed the a uthor. B rian said his
Namekagon, east of H ayward , and fish
colleagues embarrassed h i m . They
for m u s kie.
acted l i ke ru bes, gawki n g at a genius.
O n the eve of o u r 1992 trip I was
The p rofessors asked M r. Vonnegut
s l i ghtly miffed when Brian phoned,
bookish q u estions and stood
saying h e had i n vited a stranger along.
u n comfortably close, starin g at the
The g uy's name was Kurt Vonnegut.
author' s l i p s as he spoke . M r. Vonnegut
A n English p rofessor at William
was bloodshot and d roo l i n g . He was
Rainey H a rper College, which is a
d i stracte d , s pent, bewildered, bored
two-year i nstitution of h i g h e r learn i n g
with the affair. At one point, the author
located i n the northwest suburbs of
of Slaughterhouse Five excused h i m self
Chicago, B ri a n m et Vonnegut at a
from the chitchat a n d lay down on one
faculty cocktai l party.
of the i nstitution's d i n g y plastic-vinyl
"You h a rdly know th is guy," I said .
couche s .
"You met h i m ton i g ht a n d tomorrow he's
" Leave m e alone, " Von n egut said. "I
going fish i n g with u s? Oh! Where's your
need to relax for a moment."
judgment?"
H e l ay there, staring at the ceiling,
Vonnegut lectured a sold-out crowd
s m o ki n g bent non-filtered cigarettes,
of cheeri n g H arper students a n d
scratching h i s fu rry-caterpillar eyebrows
left-wi n g faculty. Bri a n filled me i n on
with h i s th u m b n a i l s , s i g h i n g
what happened that eve n i n g . H e said
occasionally .
Von ne g ut bad-mouthed America.
T h e p rofessors h a d b e e n wa iti n g for
D u ri n g the ti m e of Von neg ut's speech ,
someth i n g l i ke th i s to happen. They
Georg e B u s h was i n the White House
knew this guy was eccentric. H e ended
a n d Von n eg u t said the country was
his lecture a b ru ptly by becoming lost i n
turn i n g to s hit. The U . S . suffered from
t h o u g h t a n d then wanderi ng from the
a l l sorts of maladies: violence, political
d a i s . Students, accustomed to rock
chicanery , crooked b u reaucrats and
concerts , kept on applauding, hoping to
rotti n g i nfrastructure. And then there
l u re Vonnegut back o nstage . No encore
was also racial d i s cord i n big cities,
was forthco m i n g . The crowd started
h a n d g u n s , a b ud get deficit and fiduciary
b reaki n g u p . The professors gathered
malfeasance. H e especially knocked
at a ral l y poi nt, exchanged nods and
the country's education system and
s h uffled to the reception l i ke a
26
centipede.
Vonnegut was a tall slouch i n g old
Now, as Vonnegut lay d ozin g , the
man. I f I d i d n't know h e was a famous
faculty pretended to ignore the supine
author and had m e rely m et him on the
street, I'd say h e was nothi n g more than
a uthor. a s if famous writers were a lways
resti ng on the cou ch in the faculty
a mope. I m e a n , h ere he was standing
lounge. Some of the educators took
s leepily o n the corner, wearing khaki
note: this was the behavior of a bona
ch i n os splattered with paint, a n
fide i n tellectua l , a true bohemian . H e
e ncrusted sweat s h i rt a n d a denim
exhibited a total d i s regard for
j acket with the arms torn off. Worst part
Midwestern conventi o n . When a writer
of it, he was carrying a fly rod and a
is tire d , he lies d own and stretches out.
damaged creel. A n d he was without
He doesn't g ive a hoot where he's at.
luggage.
" Doesn't h e know we' re fishing for
Libations flowed . Waitresses h i red by
m u s kie?" I said.
the college were d i stributing free beer
"Sh h h h , " B ri a n said. "Get i n the back
and C h a m p a g n e . A bartender in the
seat. "
corner m ixed d ri n ks . Von n egut seemed
We p ulled to the curb in front of
content with n i cotin e . H e just lay there ,
slightly detach e d , staring at t h e cei l i n g .
Vonneg ut. B rian was at the h e l m of h i s
S m o k e exited h is m outh a s it would a
dad's J e e p Wag o n eer-a wood-panel
burn i n g b u i l d i n g-it fell out and then
boat h e m ooched for the tri p . There was
defied g ravity, floati ng away.
plenty of room in the wagon for tackle
boxes, coolers of beer, fis h i n g rods and
Brian fou n d his friend , Professor
Styrofoam m in n ow b uckets.
M a l colm Esterhazy, sociology 101,
m i l l i n g amid Vonnegut' s wors h i pers .
I took a seat d i rectly behind
Esterhazy sipped a wh iskey-sour. H e
Von negut. Vonnegut th rew h i s crappy
poked the floatin g o ra n g e slice and
fish i n g gear on the seat next to me and
perforated ice cubes i n h i s plastic cup
slowly took a seat i n front. H e reminded
with his forefi nger and chatted with
m e of a rusty lawn chair, with creaking
Bri a n a bout our H ayward fishing trip
j o i nts, that was tough to fold u p and put
that wou l d start less than 1 2-hours
away. Von ne g ut stared straight ahead
h ence.
at a dou ble-parked taxi . We waited for
him to speak, for some sort of
" Hayward , Wisco nsin ! " came a
gasping voice. My fishing buddy turned
acknowledgment, g reeti ng or
to d i scover that the owner of the voice
com m o n pl ace. Fin a l ly , Vonnegut said:
belonged to the sleepy, disheveled
"What the fuck! Are we going fishing or
author. Vonnegut finished resti ng and
what?"
managed to sneak u p behind h i m .
M r. Vonnegut h a d h eavy eyelids,
" I love t h a t town , " Von n eg ut said
dewl a p s , jowls, liver spots and deep
h oarsely. "Great fishing u p there. Do
wrinkles-the road m a p of a lazy hound
you m i n d if I come along?"
dog. His hair g rew wild , li ke a bush
"Ah h h . . Er. . . s u re . . . . " Bri a n said.
infested with bagworms . H i s m u stache
H e told m e h e couldn't refuse one of
was of the Yosemite Sam variety. He
resem bled a nother writer: one M ister
America's g reatest livi n g writers .
S a muel Lang horne Clem e n s , a . k. a .
" I ' m a n English teacher for C h rist's
M a rk Twa i n . Although m y i m p ression of
sake!" B ri a n said.
Twai n from the television show " Family
Vonnegut was staying downtown at
Classics" was that h e was a chipper
the Palmer H o use. We p icked h i m up at
9:04 a . m . at Wabash and Madison. He
and affable steam boat capta i n .
was waiti n g for us under the El tracks.
Von negut seemed g ri m , ru ndown.
· Bria n poi nted h i m out.
We took 1-90 n o rth . Vonnegut was
cra n ky , silent much of the trip a n d
"That's h i m?" I said. "He's d ressed
l i ke a b u m . This g uy's a m ess. "
smoked h eavily. H e u sed t h e d y i n g butt
"Shhhh."
of the last cigarette to fire up the next
27
one. H e was the faithful g u ardian of the
wou l d e me rg e a n d run para l l e l to the
etern a l e m ber. A smoker' s affectations
n arrow two-lane road . Without wa rning
are usually fused with workaday
the river wou l d veer left and vanish
gestu re s . Vo n n e g ut' s habit seemed to
comp letely i n to the forest or rush out
req u i re m o re attention than the average
ahead a n d plu n g e under an
fe llow' s . He looked at his cigarette often
approach i n g b ridge and veer right and
and used a silver Zippo with fierce
vanish com pletely i nto the forest.
concentration .
A ro u n d each turn you a ntici pated the
Outside M a d i s o n , Vonnegut told us
river s howi n g itself.
a bout a n item h e had come across i n
Our d estination was the river's
Midwest Outdoors a b o u t a 50-pound
headwater, Lake Namekagon . On a
muskie pulled out of the Chippewa
m a p the l a ke looks l i ke an ailing hand.
Flowage. This e normous catch had two
Its a rthritic fingers clutch the vegetation
p u ppies a n d two d uckli ngs removed
but can't q u ite h o l d o n .
I could barely conta i n my excitement.
from its stom ach . B ri a n wa·s i m p ressed .
I cou l d n 't wait to get a line i n the water. I
H e s m iled a n d looked back at m e .
" B u l l s h it," I said t o Bri a n , a n
co uldn't wait to relax i n a motor boat
a n d breathe sweet lake air-a blend of
accomplished l i p reader.
Near the Wisco n s i n Dells, we
p i n e needles, h oneysuckle, loa m , just a
stopped at a Stuckey' s . Here I learned
h i nt of fish s l i m e . O n e g ood whiff of the
Vonnegut d i dn't l i ke chicke n . H e
air hoveri n g over Lake Namekagon will
ordered a Stuckey burger and French
last you all day, a d d i n g five m i n utes to
fries a n d he d i d n 't fi n i s h the fries. Brian
you r l ife, offsetti n g the effects of
paid.
smoking a pack of cigarettes. I ' m sure
After l u n ch , t h e author o f God Bless
we were l e n gth e n i n g Vonnegut' s life
considerably.
You, Mrs. Rosewater asked to switch
At a ro u n d 5: 30 p . m. , we pulled i nto
p laces with m e . He said he wanted to
"catch 40 wi n ks , " whatever the hell that
H ayward. We dined at Whi spering
mea nt. The back seat of Brian's dad's
Pines Landing Point Cafe and Saloon,
Jeep Wagoneer cou l d seat four.
which was located across the street
Von negut was so ta l l , he had to curl up
from H a yward's National Fres hwater
Fishing H a l l of Fame, which featured a
i n a sem i-fetal position.
g i a nt m o n u ment erected to honor the
At Black River Fal l s , Vonnegut
started snoring. A n d at Eau Cla ire, he
noblest, the m ost aggressive, the most
started farti n g .
powerful of all freshwater fis h : The
fea rsome m uskellunge, or m uskie for
" H ey, Bria n , " I s a i d . "You r hero
short. The m o n u ment was a
sti n k s . "
" S h h h . . . . H e m i g ht h e a r you . "
40-foot-long steel m u s kie pai nted
W e turned off the m a i n h i g hway onto
g re e n , cackling at the s u n . Visitors
Cou nty Route 63, headi n g n o rtheast on
entered th ro u g h the belly, wa lked up
a wi n d i n g road that s n a ked back i nto
three stori e s a n d a ppeared in the fish's
the d a rk g reen flora of Checquamegon
m outh , b e h i n d teeth the size of
National Forest-a dense
traffic-haza rd con es.
Across the street, where we were,
n e i g h borhood, to be s u re . Con ifers and
deciduous trees stood shoulder-to­
was the Whisperi n g Pines resta urant,
should er, no species dominati n g . Trees
which was a l a rge log ca b i n . I nside was
near lakes a n d the rivers wandered up
knotty-p i n e paneli n g . The wa l l s were
and fell stiffly i nto the water face-first in
d ecorated with wild game-raccoons
super-slow m otio n . If you lived on one
crawl i n g o n to p a rtial l i m b s and deer
of these lakes you could single out a
heads m o u nted o n wal n ut shields. A
fa l l i n g tree a n d it would take up most of
stuffed black bear g reeted you i n the
your l ife before it wou l d hit water.
lobby. I t h a d a d ry , dead stare. I t could
have u sed a good dandruff shampoo .
Occasionally, the Namekagon River
28
Vonnegut m uttered someth ing about
we there? To p rotect J a panese oil
"barbaric d i s p l ays" and "prim itive
i nterests, perhaps? Let me te ll you this,
societi e s . "
when I saw a l l those I ra q i sold iers
A bove the bar w a s a m u s kie that
s urrenderi n g after we lau nched our a i r
weighed 32-po u n d s when it was pulled
a n d g ro u n d strikes, I sympathized with
from Lost Lake i n 1956. The fish looked
them. They were my b rothers."
"Mr. Vonnegut was a prisoner of
li ke a baseball bat with teeth. A n
oxidizing b rass n a m e p late said t h i s
war, " Bri a n s a i d , "captured d u ring the
l u n ker was c a u g h t by Noah S h u may.
Battle of the Bulge." Then he said to
Vonneg ut, "Walter, h ere, was in Saudi
We ordered bloody steaks and Pabst
Blue Ribbon in frosty m u g s . Our
A ra b i a i n Operation Desert Storm. He's
waitress i n s i sted that Von n eg ut
i n the Army Reserve s . "
"Yeah , " I s a i d , "the stupid Army
exti n g u i s h h i s cigarette before she
wou l d serve u s .
Reserves. Call me Corpora l Wa l ly."
"Okay, toots , " Vonnegut croaked-he
"We l l , Corpora l Wally, did you see
had a tidal wave of phlegm bouncing
much a ction?" Vonnegut said .
"Of course I d i d n't, " I said. "I was
between i n tonsi ls. H e th rew a burn i n g
cig a rette butt u n d e r t h e tab l e .
stuck i n the m i d d l e of the desert at a
"Would y o u have a little courtesy?" I
s u p ply point for s ix m onths. Liste n , I
said. "Where the h e l l were you raised ,
came h e re to do some m uski e fis hing.
a n yway?"
Lay off the war, the politics and the
"Don't you know, son , that I ' m a
literary b u l l s h it. Okay?"
g rand literary personage. I've reached a
" F a i r enoug h , " Vonnegut said. " I , too ,
level i n o u r society where I can say
c a m e f o r the fis h i n g . You ' l l hear n o
anyth i n g I wa nt."
more controversial y a p p i n g on esoteric
"So can two-h u n d red-and-fifty-mil lion
s u bj e cts from m e . "
other people."
There followed a l o n g awkward
"Not so , " Vonnegut said. "Don't be
silence that lasted a m i n ute. And when I
rid i culous. Of course our cou ntrymen
say a m i n ute , I mean the whole
can't say a nyth i n g they wa nt. During the
sixty-secon d ' s worth.
G u lf War, did you hear a nyone in
Then Bri a n spoke. What he said
A m erica say a nyth i n g against our
d i d n 't m ake sense. I t was m u ch too
troops in Saudi A ra b i a-that is, I mean,
deep-a lofty ru m i n ation from a college
said not o n TV or at a n organ ized
English professor.
"What, may I ask, was a preg nant
demonstratio n , but out loud in a
lady doing vacu u m i n g on Mother' s
crowde d , h ostile place l i ke this one? I
m e a n , good G od! Look at some of the
Day?" B ri a n asked forcefully, pointing at
rednecks in h ere ! If the war were rag i ng
Vonnegut. "She was practical ly asking
n ow, and somebody-somebody other
for a b ullet between the eyes ! "
"What are you talking about, Brian?"
th a n myself, because I ' m Kurt
I said.
Vo nneg ut-but someone such as
"The professor here i s q uoti ng the
yourself stood up and hollered, 'Bush is
off h i s rocker! What the h e l l are we
p u nch l i n e from my book, Oeadeye
doing i n the Middle East?' Why, the
Dick," Von negut said. H e stood u p
d i ners i n h e re wo u l d turn i nto a n a n g ry
slowly. H e w a s f e d u p . I believe he was
m o b a n d you'd be lucky to get out of
u n balance d . But I was liking h i m more
h e re a l ive.
a n d m o re.
"I m e a n , look who we were fighti n g , "
"I s h o u l d have learned never to go
said Von n eg ut. "The I raqis were not the
fi s h i n g with an English professor. "
Nazis or the J a pa n ese in World War I I .
Vonnegut said. " I th i n k we should ca ll
They were a thi rd-rate m i l itary power.
a n e n d to this charade."
Vonnegut p ro n o u n ced "charade" with
Of cou rse we kicked their ass. Could
there be any other outcome? Why were
a Briti s h accent so it rhymed with "rod"
29
as in "fi s h i n g rod . " He u sed gra ndiose
author of Breakfast of Champions
gestures. H e pointed at the ceiling with
wandered onto the cou n ty road and
one h a n d a n d with the other g rasped
was run over by a lumber truck? What
the g ri m y lapel of the sleeveless denim
sord i d things wou l d Vonneg ut' s
posth umous biographer have to say
jacket. Fellow d i ners were stari n g .
"I'm going t o catch t h e first
a bout Brian? Wo uld fel l ow English
professors hold Brian culpable if the
G reyhound back to C h icag o , " he said.
"An d then I'm g o i n g to board a plane
a uthor of Palm Sunday expired i n north
and fly h o m e to New York. I couldn't
woods? Wo uld he be considered
bear to h ave m y own s h it quoted back
literature's Yoko Ono?
at me for two weeks . Parroting lines
"What are you worrying about
"
I
from a book i s a sorry excuse for
s a i d . "He's a g rown m a n . He can handle
conversation . I could stomach you,
h i m self. He had enough dough to get
Wal ly, but I cou l d n't bear to spend my
i nto the m u s eu m . "
meals looking at you, professor, with
"You c a n afford to b e cavalier about
that si lly-ass g ri n plastered to his face . "
th is situati o n , Wal l y , " Bri a n said. "I can't
Now that Vonnegut mentioned it,
afford to be fl i p . "
Bri a n was s m i l i n g for almost the whole
" Fl i p?"
ride up h e.re . But Vonnegut had my
"Do you know who th is is?" Brian
friend the English teacher all wrong.
said earn estly. "Th i s is one of America's
Von n eg u t' s presence had a n
m ost beloved novel ists ! "
ass-tighte n i n g effect. After a few d ri n ks ,
" B i g deal , " I said. "It's not l i ke he's
I w a s s u re B ri a n wou l d snap out o f it.
fam o u s . It's n ot l i ke he's David
And then we could get down to
H assel hof. "
busin ess-the busi ness of fishing and
But I had a sense of what Brian was
drinking beer.
g etti n g at. I d i d n 't have h i s professional
"Ta ta , " said the A uthor of
a n d social life. Except for Bri a n , my
Galapagos. With that, Vonnegut tipped
fis h i n g buddy, a l l my other friends were
an invisible h at and strolled out of the
functional i l l iterates. The owner of the
restau rant. We watched as he crossed
wa re h o u se where I worked , I bet, had
the road a n d bought a ticket to the
never heard of Kurt Vonnegut. He's a n
Freshwater Fishing H all of Fame. From
arcan e personage.
"Okay, " I said. "I'll talk to him. But
our wi n d ow, we cou l d see that
Vonnegut bypassed all the exh i bits and
we're n ot d riving h i m back to Ch icag o.
was n ow sta n d i n g i n the M uskie's
That' s m ore than a n eight-hour tri p . I'll
mouth. J ud g i n g from how q u ickly he
see if h e wants to go fis h i n g with u s . If
a p peared there , I d o n't think he even
not, we' ll put him on a bus. We' l l tell the
stopped to look at the Louie Spray
bus d river to keep a n eye on h i m
d i o ra m a .
because the old g uy's sen i l e . "
I ran across t h e road a n d paid $5 to
" H e y , " I said, "we still have all h i s shit
i n the car. "
get i nto the museum. I spent
Bri a n sat there crestfal l e n . H i s hero
15
m i n utes looking for the a uthor of
had kicked h i m in the teeth .
Jailbird. No soap. I stopped at the
bait-ca sting d i s play. I was looking at
"Cheer u p , professor, " I said. "I bet
they're biti n g up on Lake Namekago n . "
some p retty n ifty ree l s .
"Wally, g o talk t o h i m . " Brian said.
" D i d you find h i m ?" asked Brian who
"He l i kes you. I th i n k he's senile. We've
was now at m y side. H e was impatient
got to g et h i m back to C hicago. We
and couldn't sit there i n the tavern.
"Nope. I even checked i n the mouth
can't leave h i m here. I d on't thi n k he
has any m o n e y . "
I cou l d see t h a t B ri a n was n o t o n l y
of the big fi s h . He's not here . "
worried a bout Vonnegut, b u t about h i s
cab i n . Bri a n su lked. H e stared out the
own future. W h a t wou l d h a p p e n if the
passenger wi n d ow at the
I d rove t h e rest o f t h e way t o the
30
g reen-blue-blur of trees.
clean , white letters on t h e s i d e o f the
O u r d estination was Adelsheim-a
s hack. Floati n g Rappalas, Mepps
b ack-wood fis h i n g resort that was built
spinner b aits , pickled perc h , ice cream,
i n the late 1950s by German i m migrant
col d beer, m ixed d ri n ks , beef jerky,
Horst Ran g l . H o rst was p resently dead.
fis h i n g rod s , tackle boxes , l ive bait are
The place was ru n by his overweight
a l l on sale h ere. The merch a n d ise is at
daug hters Heidi a n d G retchen-two
your elbows, h a n g i n g from the cei l i n g ,
severe ladies who hated fishermen and
stickin g out o f u m brella stands,
northern Wisco n s i n . We checked i n and
wh i p p i n g you a cross the s h i n s and
rented a motor boat. The boat was a
smacki n g you i n the head as you stroll
m ust-not o n l y for fis h i n g but as a
thro u g h the joint. It was a lake-s ide
means of g ettin g to the cab i n , for it sat
waterin g hole, a fisherman's oasis. H ere
on a s m a l l rocky island in the cove. We
you can take a b reak, sit at the bar and
a lways booked the island when it was
ask the u b i q u itous patrons where the
available. The cabin lacked electricity
fish a re biting and on what bait they are
a n d p l u m b i n g . B ut it had a fireplace and
partial. Callie M o rte n s o n , the owner,
plenty of cordwood a n d a n outhouse.
rem e m be rs u s .
Every ti m e w e e nter her
And the whole spread was spotless.
esta b l i s h m e n t we recite the " Pabst Blue
Germ a n s must be the world's cleanest
people. F i rewood was stacked
Ribbon Credo" before we take our first
sym m etrically at the cabin's d oor. I
s i p of beer. The "Credo" is posted on
wasn't s u re if I should burn the wood or
the wa ll a bove the hard l iq uor, next to
m a ke furn iture out of it. The best part of
jars of beef j e rky. While we recite, Callie
the cabin was a 50-foot sassafras tree
laughs. A n d when we sit down, she
near the dock. The sap smelled l i ke root
says: "You two assholes are back
beer. I thought th is was remarkable.
a g ai n ! "
Each ti m e I passed it, I pulled a leaf and
So w e knew what was awaiting us at
whiffed the bead of m oisture that
M o rtenson's. It is the one th i n g that is a
collected at the b reak u ntil the
con stant i n o u r l ives. We revved up the
fragra nce d i m i n i shed. The last time I
Evi n rude outboard , d i s ru pting the calm
was h ere, I stuffed sassafras twigs and
l a ke . We fol l owed the shoreline,
leaves i n to m y luggage.
somewhat.
We trolled out to the cabin, tied up
I t felt g reat to be back. This was the
the boat, p u l l e d leaves off the sassafras
way God i ntended a man to live, i n an
tree, u n loaded o u r gear, sat down on
outboard o n Lake Namekagon. We
the l u m py cou ch in the cab i n , cracked a
e ntered M o rtenson's s m i l i n g and
few beers a n d looked at each other.
friendly. There was a convivial logger,
The scent of rai n blew i n through open
vaguely fam i l iar, sittin g at the bar,
win d ows. But there wasn't a cloud and
shaking u p a c u p of d ice, hoping to win
total d arkness wou l d n't come for more
free d ri n ks. He wore blue-collar shirt
a n d pants a n d a J o h n Deere hat. There
th a n a n h o u r.
was e n o u g h h a i r g rowin g out of h i s
B rian's enthusiasm is i nfectious.
When the B ri a n Bandwagon was i n
th u m b s t o make a s m a l l tou pee. If he
town, it was tou g h to keep from jumping
had lived i n C h i cago, I'm s u re that a
on it. But h i s moody g u llies were also
loved-on e wou l d have convi n ced h i m to
i nfectio u s. Suicide was a n option at this
have electrolysis done o n h i s d ig its. The
poi nt.
people up h e re seem to ignore minor
"Mortenson's?" I a sked.
physica l i mperfections. Moles, skin
" Morte n s o n ' s . " Bri a n nodded.
tag s , s ki n d i scolorati o n s , missing teeth ,
A cross the l a ke i s a fou nderi n g dock.
even g oiters, a re ignore d . I took the
It's M orte n s on's' dock. A pebble trail
seat n ext to h i m. He nodded and
leads up a h i l l to a chocolate-brown
s m i l e d . Then h e t h u m ped the bar with
shack. " Mortenson's" is spelled out i n
h i s h a i ry k nu ckles, leaned over and
31
s houted at a back-room d oor.
"Yo! Kurt! You g ot customers!"
Vonnegut a mbled out with an apron
tied a ro u n d h i s chest, g ranny fashion. A
d i n g y bar towel was d raped over a
shoulder.
H e looked at us soberly with watery
red eyes.
"What' ll you fellows h ave?" Vonnegut
said . "What's your poison?"
" M r. Vonneg ut!" Brian belched.
"Sh u s h , " Vonnegut leaned forward
a n d whispere d . " Keep it down. I don't
want anyone here to know that I'm
world-fam o u s . I t h u m bed a ride out this
way a n d stopped in here to wet my
whistle. Old lady M ortenson thought I
was a vagra nt. S h e' s taki ng pity on me
by letti n g m e tend bar. I ' m getting
$5
an
hour plus ti p s . The hour-and-a-half I 've
worked h ere h a s been very pleasant.
"Do m e a favor, p rofessor, " Vonnegut
said. "When you return to that teaching
position at that provi ncial college, don't
tell a n y of the academ ics or the press
where I am at. I want a little peace. I
wa nt to become a nother J . D. Salinger. I
don't need a heard of rubbernecks
t h u n deri n g u p h e re to have a look at the
freak-a uthor-tu rned-bartender."
"Where d i d you learn how to be a
tend ba r?" I asked .
"Wh ile research i n g my book Jailbird I
atte nded a College of M ixology i n
M a n h attan " h e said. "Consequently, it
was in M a nh attan where I learned how
to mix a M a nh atta n . Enough of this
trifl i n g . What'l l you have?"
That' s where we left the author of
Bluebeard, in n o rthern Wisco n s i n .
Accord i n g t o B ri a n , t h e academic world
doesn't h ave a clue as to Vonnegut's
whereabouts. He hasn't been seen in
New York for years. I ' m one of the few
fell ows who knows h i s whereabouts. He
stil l works at M o rtenson's.
B ri a n tol d m e recently that he is
breaking his silence . H e i s preparing a
paper on the s u bject, which he said is
to be p u bl i shed i n the Spoon River
Review.
32
Heidi Russ
Untitled
Scul ptu re (Marble)
(9" x 1 O" x 12")
33
Gloria Farber
Track 8
I like his voice.
The breaks are hard.
They jerk you back and forth
They pound at the root
Bass-knocks my breath out
like a tickle
Listena sweet pleading rolls through
The solar numbness spirals
higher
Twirling upward over the third
Echoi ng strange secrets
This touches a center point i n the crown
The point- echoes madness in my ear
Ahh- the happy hit it.
Elation
Desire
Now drop
Back down
Deep Breath.
34
Chas H i nners
Autonomic Voyeurism
Oil painting
( 16" x 20")
35
Gabrie l Ballestas
Boom
H e didn't sleep for four n i g hts after the
He had n't slept for two n ights.
Noth i n g n ew, there had been times in
l iquor store i n cident and on the same
which h e couldn't sleep for weeks. I n
weekend h e saw her down there pacing
such n i g hts he would stand i n front of
under the dim i l l u m i n ation as usual. He
h i s wi n d ow a n d watch the street from
th ought she wouldn't come back but he
the fifth floor. He h ated the sight of the
was wrong . She retu rn ed faithfu lly to
gloomy trashy sidewalks. H e hated
her place of work. She stood there at
living i n that rat-infected building. He
her steady corner of s u rviva l . H e
hated living in that s l u m neighborhood.
re m e m bered one time he saw h e r
chatting with t h e Korean outside the
It was m u rky outside, sort of rainy.
H e had been trying to sleep, and ru n
store, she was laughing maliciously
away from h i s thoug h ts , but not even
loud, l i ke those hyenas he had seen in
getti n g d rugged u p worked ton i g ht. It
documentaries at the Discovery
was S u nday n i g ht; usually on Su nday
C h a n n e l . That n i g ht a strange car
n i g hts a p rostitute wou l d stand by the
p u l led over the curve, a n d she took off
l a m p l ight i n front of where there used to
in it. But it wasn't l i ke that all the ti me.
be a liquor store before the Korean
Oth er times he had seen her wait for
own e r g ot shot. The prostitute would
h o u rs a n d h o u rs in despa ir. He had
always stand o n that corner on
seen h e r g o home right before dawn
weeke n d s . H e had been watch ing her
downtrodden . She generally wa l ked
for q u ite some ti m e . One time i n which
proud a n d defiantly when there were
the demons of his life were drivi ng him
oth er people a ro u n d , but it was j ust a
m a d , he a l m ost j u mped from the fifth
facade. H e understood that after
floor, but the s i g ht of the whore on the
watch i n g h e r for so long. It was
corner stopped h i m . He did n't want to
i n cred ible h ow she covered the real
put on a show, he n ever wanted to put
th i n g , l i ke h e r writhed b reasts with
on a show. H e hated the idea to be
wonder bra or h e r sadness with make
seen l i ke a clown , although that's all he
u p . S h e was a clown , so m uch i n
felt he had been throughout h i s life . The
com m o n .
prostitute wasn't at h e r usual spot yet
S h e had n't shown u p yet tonig ht, but
he knew she wou l d com e . He went
tonight, but he co uld imagine her pacing
back, and forth i n h e r high heels with a
i n s ide the a partm ent, a n d searched for
cigarette lit between the i ndex and the
a joint of M a ri h u an a in one of the
m i d d l e fi nger of her right h a n d . He
kitchen d rawers, then poured h i mself
despised the tic-tic of her high heels
some J ack Daniels with Pepsi in a
beca use it was l i ke the sound of an
paper cup. Perhaps th is would help h i m
activated b o m b . tic, tic, tic. Someth ing
go t o bed. Maybe not. H e had been
was d u e to explode, l i ke the b last of the
i n h a ling pot s i n ce early that eve n i n g ,
g u n shot the n i g ht the Korean was shot.
a n d i t o n l y i ncreased h i s restlessness.
H e will n ever forget the anguis h he
H e went back to the wi n d ow. She
awoke with the sound of it, m uch less
wasn't there yet. H e felt he wanted her.
the odor of g u n powder filtering with the
H e rem e m bered o n e time i n which she
cool air into his a p a rtment. H e had seen
was wea ri n g her golden flashy dress,
the Korean h o u rs before, when he
exposing h e r belly button . She was
bought a bottle of J ack Daniels, and a
d elicious to conte m plate. He m issed her
pack of C a m e l s . He heard the gri m wai l
ton i g ht. H e felt he knew her throughout.
o f t h e s i rens com i n g , and t h e voices of
Once she wept softly leaning against
the crowd getti n g louder, but he did n't
the l a m plight. S h e cried li ke a l ittle girl.
dare to approach the window that n i g ht.
One tear of anger rolled down his
36
cheek, a n d he felt the u rge to run down
a n d h o l d h er, i n stead he rushed away
from the window to h i s room and laid
backwards o n h i s bed with h i s hands on
h i s tem ples. H e couldn't cry like that
anymore .
T h e tic-tic o f t h e h e e l s brought h i m
back t o t h e present scenario. H e heard
her com e . S h e was com i n g , and tonight
he wanted h e r to notice him. H e sat in
the window pane with h i s legs flinging
towards the abyss. H e sighed heavily,
a n d she saw him for the fi rst time. She
was weari n g a blond wig tonight, cut off
je a n
s h o rts, a n d a white cut off T-shirt
with a beer b ra n d sta m ped by the
b reasts. She s m i led fai ntly to h i m , a n d
h e g ri n ned s h y l y . She f u m b l e d through
h e r p u rse and p u l led out a pack of
N ewports . H e looked at her intensely.
The a b h orrent magic of the pot was
worki n g in h i m . S h e lit a cigarette, and
began to pace. H e contemplated the
s�reet with pain and confusion,
everyth i n g was spinning a ro u n d . H e let
go of his g ri p , and the abyss soaked
h i m . I t wasn't long before he hit the
grou n d . She a nxiously ran towards h i m .
H e w a s b ro ke n , a n d wet b u t sti ll alive,
floatin g on his own blood .
H e heard the sound of the damned
high heels touch i n g the g ro u n d . She
lowered h e rself down and screamed for
h e l p . The street was e mpty. Their eyes
enco u ntered a n d s h e sobbed
desperately. H e m umbled someth ing
that spurted out with blood . She came
closer to h i m with a look of d isg ust, and
pity i n her eyes. H e m umbled again,
a n d she h e a rd him clearly this time. H e
said,
"
B OO M
."
37
Jenn ifer Chan ner
Studs
Black & White Photograph
(8" x 1 O")
38
Donna Paterson
Com puter Hell
Computer Hell l ives strong where I am at.
For hours I sit wondering how and stare.
What do I do with Autoexec. Bat?
At night the mouse wi l l grow into a rat,
and attack my work without a care.
Computer Hell l ives strong where I am at.
I sit back, my eyes squint and pray that,
I wi l l beat the system, wi l l it play fair?
What do I do with Autoexec. Bat?
How do I enter the Internet chat?
Or perhaps I better not even dare.
Computer Hell l ives strong where I am at.
Macintosh®, Windows, or DOS and all that.
To my old typewriter they do not compare.
What do I do with Autoexec. Bat?
Config. Sys this you wretched technocrat,
just print it out, I say in one last prayer.
Computer Hell l ives strong where I am at.
What do I do with Autoexec. Bat?
39
Holly R ushakoff
Clot
I think I'd find the circus more my type.
With cotton candy love, they curtain cal l
Your dance of fame a n d juice you when you're ripe.
And why resist a place that nets your fal l?
Applauded for contortions, no one qu ite
The same; to walk on g lass chips, coals just fi red;
Where ostentatious clowns are never trite.
Through white-l it nights, smeared smiles sweat, frolic-tired.
Be gemmed, bejeweled, be melted, Freaks, today
Dye day to indigo desire. You bleed
Your quirks and fuse as one. Once joined, you stay
And search for doors outside the crowds you lead.
Beware when sifting through warped worlds, you' l l find
Midway, the place which whispers: "Wounded bind."
40
Heidi Russ
Self Portrait
C harcoal
(17" x 18")
41
Chas Hinners -
Staring at the Floor
wavers there a soft, m elting whisper
The pounding in my heart seems to
widen then suddenly trickle away-stop,
liq uefies the image over a m i l l i o n years .
only to flutter i n again, The demon sits
A s i n g le word , " N ow . " , li ke a n incessant
a n d watches revere ntly from the floor.
stre a m ' s trickle patters i n to a tranquil
For a few m o m ents no whispers come
pool, the echoes rip p l i n g , s h ifti n g , ri sing
from its lips. I th i n k I t e njoys the tense
li ke a chorus of bells from the g rand
silence-it m ust. M y mouth trembles,
cath ed ra l s , a n d i n th eir roar rise ten
but I say n oth i n g . Sto n i ly, motion less,
thousand songs, painting won derful
afraid to even twitch , I sit on the edge of
colors across a starlit sky.
With a g reat jerk my eyes meet the
a bed. It may be m in e , although I pray
to God it is n ot. I t seems I a m waiting
demon's face a s its lips close, rou nding
for m y h e a rtbeat to begin again or
out the word still echoing i n side me. ( I
m aybe change rhyth m . It's hard to
hate you . ) A terse but absol utely radiant
remember i n this bitter light peering in
smile affixes itself to the demon's
through the cheap blinds skewed over
terri ble face , (You're too . . . ) and I want
the wi n d ow.
m o re than anyth i n g to kiss its mouth ,
lick the ecstasy a n d immortal beauty of
Suddenly, as if by accident, I am
aware that m y n aked feet have grown
its lips, eyes , cheeks , its very being, its
icy on the bare wood floor, and then, as
savage essence. I delight in the ca l l of
if j ust i n their rem e m b ra nce , warm once
its eyes, d a n ce in the p romise of
a g a i n . I h o l d my b reath u n intentionally
everlasting joy, freedom. I sta nd
as the thought of the cooling and
transfixed as we e m b race, o n l y wearily
warm i n g of my feet conti n ues to pulsate
notin g the d i s a ppeara n ce of the
thro u g h my m i n d in a s mooth regular
d ista n ce between us. My eyes slip s h ut.
meter, replaci n g the absent, forgotten
A l l of ti m e a n d s pace was h over my
stride of my blood. I take my eyes from
body and v a n i s h i nto cool blackness as
the d e m o n , sti ll patiently resti ng on the
our to n g u es stream l i ke delicate smoke
floor, (God it must have been a
i nto each othe rs' mouths. Its pale
th ousand years . . . ) a n d a n
fi ngers sensuously dig i nto my neck,
overwh e l m i n g s h udder t o f i n d my lost
tu n ne l i n g under the s ki n of my back,
heartbeat screams throug hout my
d rawin g my b reath in thro u g h its arm s ;
body-freezes m e .
wh i l e I i m m e s h my own arms into the
demon's sides, forci n g it u pwards, i nto
Carefu l ly, without exerting a n y
energy or m o v i n g too quickly, s o as not
m y n ow s n a ke l i ke m outh , my fangs
to s h atter my s u btle, throbbing
ca l l i n g fo r the demon's volca n ic blood .
paralysis, I let my h ead turn and gently
Flesh a n d bone i ntertwin e a n d fu se. We
bend down so I can observe my bony
are one, forever a n d a lways, and it
chest. I fi n d my h a n d , fingers delicately
seems it could never have been any
spread over the dull gloss my skin has
other way, a s we d rift i nto the living
become, heel coveri n g m y right nipple,
m usic of the d e mon's promise.
fi ngers waiti ng anxiously j ust a bove my
Towerin g walls of flame seem to lick
stern u m , there to meet my gaze. I take
i nfin ity a bove eddying g u lfs of icy h oar,
a moment, perh a ps only a thought
m atch i n g the chaos of the fire with
within a thoug ht, to remember; retrace
crysta l l i n e , s p a rkl i n g precisio n .
my hand's journey from my l a p . An
Everywhere h a n g s t h e scent of
i m ag e , the silent g l i d e of the fist on my
smoldering n i g ht s ky . N ova stars
thigh a n d its ever-present
th u n der, sym p ho n ie s of d ru m s
metamorphosis i nto the sprawl ing
exp l o d i n g thro u g h m e li ke drops of
caress o n m y ri b s frames itself
divine rai n . I welcome the blazing river
perfectly, lucidly i n to my bra i n . As it
into my s ki n . Hot a n d col d sear my flesh
42
as I gasp a n d s hriek i n terrorizing
delight. I know the tem ptation of
Pro metheus as I burn as if for the first
time a n d I want this for all-for all time.
There i s no d i stinction between
pleasure a n d p a i n . This is su nfire,
plasmic bliss. The i nferno echoes and
writhes i n every fiber of my being. I a m
undying, i m mortal . I a m life . I a m death .
I a m everyt h i n g , a l l , nothi n g ,
everywhere, I a m t h e Devil , a n d I a m
God-I a m the total ity of tota lities
rus h i n g s i l e ntly n owhere in every
d i rectio n .
A s s l owly as t h e demon's whisper of
" N ow . " stole i n to my awareness and
became a deafe n i n g howl , a million
voices a n d a billion colors and a n
i nfinity of its own-j ust as swiftly, the
bri l l ia n t inferno I s o rapturously
i m m e rsed myself in, ceases, and I a m
recalled t o t h e e d g e of a d a n k,
comfortless bed, by a single thud from
beneath my ri bs. My eyes flash to my
clenched chest. I thought I saw my
i nd ex and m i d d l e fingers fall ever so
g e ntly on the new coatin g of oily, turbid
pers p i rati o n coveri ng my skin, as if the
bulge of my heart caused them to rise.
Then I saw them flutter. For sure this
time, ra pidly, u p down , u p down , u p
d own , then a l o n g pause, a few sparse
beats, n othi n g , then suddenly a
machi ne-g u n flurry, lastin g far too long,
then again stillness. (Com e back ! )
I cannot d raw my gaze away from my
chest (There i s someth i n g here ) . I know
the demon is watchi n g from the corner,
sitting patiently on the floor, u naffected ,
but there i s a sca l d i n g p ressure to
rem e m ber someth i n g lost in my h a n d . I t
is so h a rd t o t h i n k i n this chilling l i g h t
from t h e wi n d ow. S a d l y , calmly, I
remember (again a n d again) that for all
the eternity of the demon's intoxicating
ecstasy, these seasons in between
rage fa r longer. My heartbeat changes
rhyth m a g a i n , rem i n d i n g m e of some
·
forgotten s ecret m y hand would no
longer reveal .
43
Annette Stormont
A Whale of a Motor
Scu lptu re (Ceramic & Metal)
44