AmLit Spring 1985

spring 1985

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THANKS!!

The editors gratefully acknowledge the support of Dean Frank Turaj and the College of Arts and Sciences, and of Paul Strauss and the General Assembly of

the Student Confederation.

Without their continued emotional and nancial support, a second edition of americanLíterary would not have been possible.

A printed shout from the housetops goes as well to our generous patrons:

christine bell abderraheim benkirane peter bloom lou anne caligiuri michael haken elinor c. hiller richard m. lesse

john quale will stone joe tinkieman patricia van der vorm william wagnon jo williams greg epler wood

patricia ludwig

americanLiterary

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canLiterary VOLUME II a biannual magazine published by

students of the american university

editorial staff laura cruger creative director russell atwOod

editor-in-chief, ction j„d. smith associate editor, poetry

richard lang associate editor ray gesumaria art editor

business managers pat ludwig laura cruger

cover photographs wendy vail

copgright O1985 amerlcanLiterary all rights reserved

all rights revert to artistS upon publication love and kisses OOXXIN

amerkcanLiterary the american university

217mgc

massachusettsandnebraskaavenues, n washington, dc 20016 (202) 885-6414

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contents

features andy schoengold's

McHester Street: the rest of the story

of dreamns and cinema: janosrozsa and frank turaj

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16

ction elinor hiller: thehypnotist.nourishment tara d. keley: disintegration

10,20 12

a. m. homes: the longest vacation

27

todd stewart: travels in a foreign country

30

poetry jim fay: poem inspired by a painting, aqua matin

į. d smith: nightwalker jenntfer birabach: pretending mark peters: in the oceans

26

mira courpas: learning the moon

32

visuals alan blackwell: threedrawings ken conley:. charcoaldravwing rachel nasatir: threecharcoal dravings

9,3, 10

6,7, 8

patrkcia jackson: contour drawing

13

michael v.

14

ppis: sabatierprint

dan mathews: photograph

15

laura cruger: photographs of rozsa and turaj

es van der goot: twodrawings.oil painting

raygesumarla: tomonotypes thomas irion: fouretchings anna otchin: ol painting

16

19, 99, 21

20, 30 26, 27, 28 31

wendy vail: photograph made with 4 x 5 camera

39

drawings by alan blackwell

poem inspired by a painting seen in the chicago art institute

barefoot at the edçe of a eld

the cottage only skipsteps and a half-hummed song behind her. she stands. the light around her is almost evening. she waits.

arms at her sides and all her loving weight is staked in the earth

through one heel. her other foot traces arcs in the dirt sensing his approach. her eges are vwide

jimfay

and calm as mockingbirds.

her nose alert. si ng the air

for traces of the drowsing day and the smell of him.

aqua matin father is going to take my brother

shing

and I asked to go again. he said no last time

but I'm older now and not afraid to gouge a worm with a hook.

I'm not Sure vhether I think I'd like

shing

or vhether I'd just like to be along with them.

I like the old rowboat anyhow

and I like being on the water so early in the morning.

there's alwags some old raccoon big as the stuffed one in my closet

at the water's edge

washing his hands and his breakfast the way mother makes me wash the beans and radishes she grows in our garden.

it won't matter if father doesn't let me ço. to master a sh is nothing to be proud of mother sags.

I

remember

the last time

mother watched them go down as far as the road

absently stirring the cornbread batter smiling the way she did vwhen we lay in the bottom of that old rowboat and she helped me count the stars smiling to herself now like she knew a secret

saging I'd be shing soon enough and it wouldn't be for any sh and I wouldn't be needing any worns.

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5

.

'et

RAEtan

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night walker

Scissors. his leçs eclipse each othe, brisk business strides describe a hillarc.

Heelstrikes echo from sidewalk to still oak.

His shut umbrella's tip. bright and isolated as a catege.

punctures the amber liçht from windows.

Parted dark falls behind him in shreds.

j.d. smith

pretending Don't play with the darkness For it is dangerous and will blind gou

Swallow gou up whole Carrying you off into another world Of scary demons And re breathing devils Scorching you with their ames For the darkness is held

In my hands only for a moment Then I open them and it is gone

jennifer birnbach

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9di the 1eitonqyrt hypnotist

by elinor c. hiller

Whatever creatures-crickets, moths. mosquitoes or bats--stired under

the mistsodden moon. their presence was

impercepúble to the audience who perspired under slim mountain breezes ltering

through. the open doors of the hotel's theater. Although

it was summer when

none of the rooms should have been vacant and the theater should have been packed.

the place was not haf ful: nevertheless. laughter reached outside. obliterating the rustings nearby. merging in the distance with incantations of ovls and bullfrogs.

Inside. from the staçe. the hypnotist called up his vounteers: a woman he made bark like a dog: a man who crawłed on hands

and knees, throwing his leçs up in a mule

kick now and then: and another man. very timid at rst, but who after being coaxed to sleep. sang songs like "Tve Been Workin' On

The Railroad" and "My Bonnie Lies Over the

Ocean." On the second try. every time the word bonnie" appeared in the song. the

hypnotist instructed him to sing "shty" instead. which made the wooden building shake like bedlam in laughter. The contes-

tants remembered nothing once the hypnotist snapped his

ngers to wake them: each

one received a big round of applause as he

stepped down. But after the singer, no adult would go onstage. which was the reason the hypnotist let me come up.

"Stand right here." he said. "Tell me your name."

"Milie." I answered.

"How old are you. Millie?

"Eleven."

"Are you married? tered a slight laugh.

The audience stut-

Aas

azior

jeanchristophe hyacinthe From the seats. the stage looked orgeous: red vełvet curtains dipped in grandiose scallops. a glittering backdrop sparbled all the way to where I sat on the side. But up on the staçe. I could see in the wings a mesh

of tangled mops, rags and a broken bottle swept over to the side of the oor.

"No sir, I'm not married."

"Well. maybe next gear." he said, vinking

As I looked up at him, the violet heat cur-

ing the air around the ights scorched my

ing pain. you will be insensitive. Nothing in

eges. I squinted.

this world can hurt gou."

"Thať's good., very good. Close your eges.

Nine-and

gou're very. very. very

I

wasn't

in

the

least

of tobaccotancid

now rising in seismic rhythms up to the lights. I had to hold on beneath that lame:

ngers he held close to

liberty to gasp.

In an angry whisper the hypnotist snarled.

When I reach

three

looked up into his mouth I saw

sleeping and I didn't want to hurt his feel

ings. If only I hadn't come up.

"Ten!"

couldn't blink: only the audience was at

"Why did you pretend? Why did you make believe you were sleeping To the audience

hypnotisť's tuxedo was broken and that his

My eges snapped shut.

he said. When I snap my

pocket, sewn on with larçe. clumsy basting

"Millie is now fast asleep." he said lifüng

awaken and you will feel again."

continued

his fore nger to his lips to hush the audi-

in a softer tone:

"Five-Six-

ence. Then he said to me. "Millie, now you

He

snapped

his

ngers. you will

ngers. I

opened

my

eyes. I stepped dovn from the stage. cheek

are sleeping and you do not feel a thing. not

still burning.

a thing. Unil I wake you, you will be imper-

applause.

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ickered

before my eges. the heat from my cheek

How could I disappoint him?I didn't feel like

count.

Seven-Drowsy, oh so drowsy."

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ors. squirming maçenta microbes

was on stage. I couldn't wince or whimper. I

to

"I said listen to me!" he menaced. Then he

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wondered

the teeth fastened to his gums by wires stretched under the drooping mustache.

going

stitches, was fraged.

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I

about the hgpnotist. about the chipped nails

I'm

I noticed that one of the buttons on the

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tired.

His slap lacerated my face. letting out a blaze of hieroglyphic scrawis in briliant col-

my face. I

Count. One-To-Theree çetting tired..."

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ired

and..."

out to the audience. "No look in my eges,

gou're çoing to feel drowsg. At seven, you'l be very. ery tired. At ten you're going to sleep. Listen." he commanded. "I'm about to

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vious to pain. gou will be incapable of feel

to a sensational

round

of

al

i S

i

n

t

by tara d. kelley

he satalone.enclosedin thepagesof a Jjoumal. chain-smoking until the knot in

commonplace.

movement of her ngers ickáng the growth

In her better moods she was sure she had

the

sanity for the last time. But now she was un-

ness. As if she could have stopped it. as if

ow of violence with a wave of bitter-

certain as to which side she was on, or.

she

more accurately. which side scared her the

alwags the same. Her mother was a study in

least.

quilt. her father shiftyeged as he made more

were

omniscient.

The

results

were

Her father was on one side. the side she

vacant promises of peace. Within dags the

slipped into almost daily. She was certain

state of affairs resumed a sickening form of

that he was insane. a certainty documented

normalcy. a normalcy where bottles

by the unguestionable dementia of his fam-

spite of themselves. the dregs launching out and slapping into the walls. the oors. the

ew in

mute faces of those unfortunate enough to be standing in the wag.

She had grown up with this cruelty and the results frightened her. She could see

herself withdrawing from people. becoming more and more immersed in activity so that she lacked the time to think about her past life ang more than she had to. There were

stirrings of insanity. placed it among the

things she couldn't block. though. as hard as

essentials of understarnding her own life.

qured in an odd way. in a

she miçht try. Now shevwas unable to cope with the random cruelty of life. She hated

way that had permanently damaged her.

Those events she had been unable to block

blanched and beaten faces of those who

out she could only describe as worse than

had been slapped by her carefully con-

any hell she might have imagined.

structed sentences. Soon she bean to sti e

the words

that

couldn't

be erased. the

It was a phantasmagoria. The walls bled a

the words and the emotions. the desire to

plasma of paint chips and sheet rock as a torrent of objects impacted, fell and shat-

quell indifference and thoughtlessness by striking out at the offenders. The rages internalized. eupted in acts of clandestine self-destruction and random ts of uncon-

the fragile skin of walls and doors. The light-

trollable rage. What she saw as a form of

bulbs, lit only seconds before, exploded into

insanity had taken root and was thriving.

fragments of glass and wire. The

The night grew colder. She tried to convey the quick stream of thoughts into words.

enire

structure, slashed through veins and arteries

choose a few that were worth putting on paper, then crossed them out. She had run

untl it's lifeblood qushed out, foming pud-

out of ciçarettes, she had run out of emo

dles of debris on the oor.

tions. The few sane outlets for her raçes.

She could still hear the drunken verbiage of her father,

an

incredible

mixture

rages açainst what she continued to regard

of

as a dying ight, were failing her. There were

obscenity and intelligence, as he goaded her

no soluions, no path out of the ditch she found herself in. She closed the joumal. alt

mother into the inevitable stream of accusa19

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She remembered the attempt to stanch

crOSsed the border between madness and

dishware bruised and battered the internal

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the

sounds of impact. of bone açainst walls and

father kicked his spouse down the stairs or into other states of oblivion.

house shook as chairs, tables, books and

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became her

onds closer to death. and the thought

evoked mixed emotions.

ew across rooms and gouged holes into

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and still

oors. She could still hear the mu ed plead-

tered. Lamps, wrenched out of wall sockets,

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could

ings of her mother. the cries and screams as

Violence also

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condoned She

of ash into the air. Each sip of saccharine-

grew to maturity they found themselves trapped vithin their own forns of madness.

She herself had become familiar with the

fl

was

laced soda conginced her that she was sec-

around mental wards. But as the patterns

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he

continued.

began to repeat, as one child after another

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brutality

quick intake of smoke. or even the slight

in a family that spent most of its time in and

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the acts of

as though she feared retribution for each

and there was a tendency to shrug these off

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for

would begín the violence, the iolence that

ily. For her father and his siblings alcoholism

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justi cation

her stomach became unbearable. She moved

and violence were only part of the problem.

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tions. When her father had. in his mind. a

13

patricia jackson

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michael v. ippis

dan mathevs

Janos Rozsa

Frank Tuai

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ROZSA: The 'entertainment' aspect is very important. The audience is

Is art more a produt of the artistSVISİONor of the society from which the artist comes? Hor much do culrre and politics affect artistic

the same everyvhere in the world. even on the 'other

fortable chair in the dark-together. And that's very importanttogether. Not isolated in front of the TV. Magbe that's the secret-that's why the cinema can survive the attack of the TV-people like to be

toçether and watch the same screen and...and...

LC: ...and hear each other laugh.

TURAJ: I hate to run in the face of such a nice community spirit, but

my idea of paradise. for entertaining mgsel. is to be in a small movie

house all alone Not in front of a television set-in front of a big screen.

ROZSA: Why? TURAJ: Well. to me. the cinema is the closest thing to a dream that

American tn efor.

Turaj Daan oftheCollag ofArts andSiences s a im buffspecializing in Eastem European cinema epaially the lns of Poland His Polish

I've ever experienced vhen I'm not sleeping.

ROZSA: But people love dreaming together.

TURAJ: Ive never dreamt vith angone in my life ROZSA: Wel. you are so goung-maybe later.

ancestry and love of the n art hare inspied him to createone of the best Eastem European n sudics programs among American universities, at AU.

ALLEGORIES. HISTORY & CENSORSHIP LC: What is the purpOse of the cinema there?

ART & ENTERTAINMENT LAURA

ROZSA: To give an honest opinion of the country. to make the peo-

CRUGER: There's a book on Eastern European Cinema

ple understand their present by the past-or to answer questions, or at

called The Most Important Art. Why is it the most important art. and to

least. to ask the questions.

whom?

JANOS ROZSA: Do gou know who said it was the most important art?

TURAJ: You bring up something that is very noticeable-the lms of Eastem Europe are on the whole much more serious. More political.

Lenin said it.

as political as they can be under censorship. I think. It's almost dif cult

FRANK TURAJ: What did he play in? No- it's true.

to

ROZSA: Lenin said it because most of the Russian population was illit-

ROZSA: And not historical.

nd a

lm that is not somewhat political.

erate-newspapers couldn't give information to the people-so docu-

TURAJ: I's sociological political. or it's allegorical political. I think of.

mentaries were very important to the govenment. But we lmmakers still think it is the most important art. even if we are the only ones who

for example. a Polish lm, Master of Ceremonies about a uy who

think that.

he gets to the top-by being a cheat. Do gou know that ROZSA: Sure.

makes a Iiving as a master of ceremonies. By climbing all over people.

LC (To Turaj): Do jou think it is sill the most important art?

J

part of the

globe. Theg want to spend an hourand-a-half or tvvo hours in a com-

perypative? s at any less raluable if the antist gos uhard of? Can art exist without anaudience?If no one ses i. s it art?

JanosRozsa and Frark Turaj spured thexequestions with their iferent philosophies when thợ talked one moming about Easten European cinena.

Rozsa a wel knovn Hungnian rmaker. has been teachingcinema studies and production cksses for AUs College of Arts andSciences His ms inchudeSunday Daughters. about the lije of a poung girl living in a state home and Grimace. a somexhat sureal look at the world from a child's perşpetive His katest ftn Witches Sabbath. s a ungarian

m?

TURAJ: Absolutely.

LC: How about speci cally in Eastern Europe? Is it more...

TURAJ: And this is a thinly veiled allegory of life in that societ,.

ROZSA: Eastern Europe is on the same globe...

analyze a question by looking at the past gou can understand the pres-

ROZSA: But not all the historical

lms are alleçorical. I am sure if you

LC: Yes. ges...

ent better, but...

TURAJ: You know, it may be more important in Eastern Europe in

TURAJ:

Some ways.

nationhood can be made, without necessarily being an allegory.

ROZSA: Yes.

ROZSA: Whg?

...but

a historical

lm that raises the consciousness of

TURAJ: I can't speak for Hungary. but it seems to me that in Poland.

TURAJ: And in this sense, I have a speci c example. The

they simply take lms more seriously. The public does.

River is about the uprising of 1863 in Poland. It's not an allegory. it's

ROZSA: Well. when we speak about lm in Hungary or Poland, we mean the lm art.

LC: You don't mean pure 'entertainment'. like HollywOod movies.

ROZSA: Entertainment...Entertainment can be art as well.

TURAJ: And art can be entertaining.

adapted from a novel. One can buy the novel in Poland. it is not censored. But the lm has not yet been allowed to be shown. although the

lm Faithful

director has won a prize from the state for it, and his peers-his fellow directors-think

screened.

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interview and photos by laura cruger

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european lm industry

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a conversation with lmmaker janos rozsa and dean frank turaj on the eastern

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of dreams and cinema:

it is a magni cent

lm. But it is still not allowed to be

ROZSA:

Now gou are the expert in Polish Film, I am not

obviously.

lms we made in the last ten gears in Hun-

gary-Times Stands Stil Surnday Daughters When Joseph Retuns etcetthe

era. gou might ask what the role of the censor vwas in those lms. These

lms open a door, a window for Hungary.

TURAI: In other words. gou're saping that you can't see the hand of

Poland is a very special situation.

the censor in those lms.

TURAJ: Yes, since 1980. it has been a very special situation.

ROZSA: Yes.

Let me ask you a question. as a director. I've never been one. so I've

never gone through ths process. Do you feel that censorship-speci -

CHALLENGES AND EXCUSES

cally political censorship-creatively challenges you to do something more subtle. more imaginative. more suggestive? Do gou feel that

LC: So vhat is your challençe in making a lm?

sometimes this makes you a more careful artist because gou cannot

ROZSA: I have to nd the best way to suspend the audiences disbelief

do things so overtly? I don't mean just gou. I mean any director in

when I'm making a

Easten Europe. say we mustn't make pomography. brutality. or

lm. I try never to think about vwhat the state mag

or may not censor, because I have enough problems thinking with my head about how to make the public understand what I'm trying to say.

ROZSA: Fist of all let's de ne this censorship. Thecensors in Hungary ms against the

I's not easy... the audience doesnt want to think too much. I'm not

Hungarian system. It doesn't mean you can't show nude people. In

making the lm for the producer, but for the public. That's my job. The

every Hungarian lm you see love scenes. Same with brutality. You can show someone kill another person.

next challenge is, how can I combine public success with an intelliçent message? That's not easy either.

TURAJ: But not so graphically.

Maybe it's easy for Fellini. But how mang average Americans know vho Feliní is? Who knows his name? And who knows Bergman's

ROZSA: No. but if there is a dramatic reason in a lm. and it's made in

an artistic way. there's no disçust about it.

name? Yeah. geah. Liv ullman and Truffaut are known a bit more

TURAJ: Let me interrupt becausel think you're making a good point.

It has nothing to do with political censorship. but it has to do with the

Spielberg. who is a brilliant director and. .who made some

point I was making. In the US. we can show any kind of brutality and

(chuckle). Or Milos Forman.

magbe. But vwho knows those qugs? They are not less valuable than

mone

most of the time it's stupid. I can think of scenes of blood and gore

which are totally unnecessary and do more perhaps to ruin the

Forman was a brilliant director in Czechoslavakia. The Firenan's Ball

decorum of the lm than to help it. Now you do not depict brutality in

is one of his best. He is a talented guy. he came here. and he made his

the same way. You do not show bulets hiting the face.

rstAmerican lm calledTaking Of. It was...

ROZSA: Yeah. peah. but I did it. in a lm that took place in the Middle

TURAJ: Lousy.

Ages. That brutality was the natural everyday life of the people. So if

gou make a

ROZA: ...lousy. Buthe's a talentedguy. or he couldn't have made Hai

lm that takes place then. or a lm about fascism or any

or Cuckoos Nest or Amadeus And these are very good...I love his lms.

topic that involves brutalty. then naturaly gou have to show this

I love Amadeus but I'm not sure it's better than Fireman's Bal.

element.

TURAJ: In a strange way. when he was making One Flew Orer the

PROFIT

CuCkoo's Nest. he was making a Czechoslavakian

lm. He discovered

LC: How much is a ticket in Poland?

that he failed vith Taking Of because he hadn't found a theme that

TURAJ: Cheap.

spoke very strongly to himself and to the American public at the same time.

ROZSA: Cheap in Hungary as well. If you make a HIT! in Hungary and

the

whole

nothing-nothing

population

goes to see the

lm twice. then it's

But when he read Cuckoo's Nest., he found it. His own explanation is

in dollars. Because the tickets are so cheap.

something like this: he had to

TURAJ: So obviously there is a great deal more pro t here.

nd a metaphor for individual revolt

against an institution. Especially a mind-bending institution.

ROZSA: And in Hungary it is obvious that they don't want the pro t.

They may sag they want it. but when they decide to sell a ticket for

ROZSA: But he is very talented, don't forget. this is why hes a succes.

10, they decide not to make money.

When we talk about censorship. or the stupid producer. or the lack of money. or bad vweather. I don't like it because these are excuses. And

in history. there were bad periods, there were producers all the ime.

PRODUCERS

Michelangelo

LC: In Eastem Europe, the state funds all lms.

had a producer. the Pope. and he never asked. can I

make nude angels or vwhat?He knew what to do. how to do it. and he

ROZSA: Yes, and in America. if gou want to make a lm, gou have to

knew something else: the painting wouldn't come down over the cen-

consince a producer. or a rich quy. And if you can't convince him. gou

turies. Maybe more talented people made much better things, but who knows about them?

have to win a lottery or I don't know what. Or gou can't make the lm.

We have only one producer. That's our problem. But the producer is

So, it is the talent's job to get through. And NO excuses. NO stupid

not the state directly--I sit in front of a clerk-a human being -not the

producer. NO stupid audience, NO censorship. NO war-nothing can

state. This clerk is very intelligent. so gou can't lie. He's read 2,000 more books than I. And it's not his money he's giving out. it's the state's

stop you. You have to nd a way. And if a guy has talent enough then he will nd the best sript, the best actor, the right circumstances. They

moneg, so it's my money. too. The money is not in his pocket.

can make a çood

lm for nothing. and they can make bad

lms for

milions. Sorrily there are lost talents and I know they are lost because

When I talk with ray students about censorship. they have an image

they lack the knack.

that we talk to a chair behind a desk or a very stupid guy.

18

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ing. If you analyze the

Hungarian Ambassador (chuckle) so l don't want to say anything-- but

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rare. I wish they were stupid, but they are not. And that's very interest-

lm that raises the sense of nationhood. has no allegorical content.

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ROZSA: Oh, sure, sometimes a producer can be stupid. but that's

sians. And that is just too close. So it's on the shelf. It is an historical

and yet it has a halo of politics that causes it to be censored.

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TURAJ: Sometimes that's true.

It depicts an uprising açainst Czaist troops. Of course that isn't ex-

actly an uprising against the Soviets, but an uprising açainst the Rus-

al.

drawing by els van der goot

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nourishment by elinor hiller

raygesumaria

silenty over the gity land, about thirty

rst luminescent green. then a lush purple.

the tellale bulge of incipient growth. They

right foream deep into her mouth so she couldn't bite. Then gripping her to his chest. he cut the pouch string with his teeth. She

It was midday. The War had been over for a

had been together many years. When they

struggled. but could not move from his insis-

long ime. but once in avhile those beuild-

became partners they must have been the

ering skies retumed.

same age. Now he was an old man. Except

tent grasp. Strong-he was still the stronger.

His teeth shred the last strand of ber. He

Squining. she clasped the small leather

for a line of sparse,vwhite strands around the

had one instant to open the pouch. to get

pouch that hung from a thong around her neck. held it as if it were a cros from the old

perimeter of his skul. he was entirely bald.

what was inside. He struck her so she fell

Some days he could not straighten his back.

stunned to the ground. He veered away and

so he walked bent, ike an animal whose

pulled tro shriveled mushrooms from the pocke.

Tara-that was the name Crito had Ngiven her--looked up as the sky tumed

days. Not even Critto knew what was inside.

Once. years ago. whern he tried to touch it.

she struck him with the jagged edge of a

pipe. etching the permanent horizontal scar that perforated his cheek. She carried the pouch with heralwagsS.never revealing what

gards east of him, scanning the surface for

front legs did not quite reach the ground.

The woman though. was still straight. Critto

loved her hair. the color of the bark of the old trees, and her face which wàas smooth

and unlined. Why hadn't she açed? Why didn't she seem to be hungry?

it contained.

They had trudged this sector of the plain

Secretly. he resented whatever it was that

for two dags. Although it was summer and food should have been plentiful. they had

preserved her. He eged her: her hand still

clutching the itdle pocket dangling from her neck. Of course! he thought. While he

walked and walked, but nothing had grown for them. Grito feared that food vwould have

starved. she had been taking nourishment

to be farmed as it had been before The War.

from the pouch. Now. for his own survival.

Since the middle of The Chaos. food had

he would snatch it from her. But she was

come to sprout alone. A stalk of nourish-

Smart and strong. He would

ment would appear overnight. The next day.

clever, to plan. He let her move ahead of

if it were not harvested. it would be gone.

him, then he called out:

The people could sunmer,

nd all they needed in the

then returm to the barracks for

winter when theg would sleep the long. full sleep. waking by some inner clock. when

the food would be there açain.

Now, after two days with the Sour taste of

have to be

"Nara! Come here darling. You have a tick on the back of your neck. Let me get him

out for you."

She reached absently to her neck.

"No." he said. "Ill çet it." He caught up

"No." she screamed. "Don't!" She rushed at him.

Quickly. he ung the mushrooms into his

mouth. swallowing without chewing.

"Oh." she sobbed. "Oh no. oh no." She cutched her arms, rocking sidewas. "Oh

no!"

"You wanted to keep the mushrooms for yourself. did you? After all this time with me. you wouldn't share your food." he scolded.

"Oh my sweet. oh my love. my hope. my .my children. my poor children."

love

"What are you talking about? We have no

children."

"They were my children before I met you.

My poor children were growing again. They shrunk in The Chaos, but slowty they were

growing. Now they're gone forever.

Crito watched as she rocked from side to side. as her hair turned white and fell out.

and as her skin withered. Before

nightall

she was blind. The rest of his life. Critto

with her.

hunger in his mouth, Critto was irritable. The

Swiftly. using her hair to pull, he wrenched

woman did not complain. She marched

her head back with his left hand. thrust his 20

dragged her

complained.

behind

him:

but he never

al

4

els van der goot 21

IsangowegalHarvey?

a andothe

iveme things t

o

1S.

This

nd

,

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wheredo

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ueprs,

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mile sem-comatose byAndySehe,

ciR

Tor ARt ow the WalL rodvethons, this I5 Doe Severeiels whotuet $ayin9,,

olg34fy onddoit die od NI ht

E

aa

V

sh swim

two by tO red and porpoise whale and turquiose

suddenly plumes shorting jet fountains In the oceans

coral queens hands swaying bright orange bubbles rushing fan- sh praying

slapping of surfs the hot white beach a

ddler crabcreeps

In the oceans

tvo by two

etchings by thomas irion

boy and girl

opster. pearl

crunching and splashing warm. vibrating arrow sh pointing It's wet and it's fun

here they come two by wo fat sh and dolphins seastriped. clam-ribbed caught in procession in a smiling mood

In the oceans

full of mgstery swaying in historg everywhere now.

mark peters

26

fi

fi

fi

In the oceans

fi

fi

in the oceans

fi

Cylvia tapped Henry on the back just before she swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

"I's moming." she said. getting up to pull the curtain open. She stretched. looked out onto a sea of Chevrolets and the bottom half of the Holiday Inn sign. gawned and walked

awake

into

the

bathroom.

"Are

gou

Her words were thick with mint

toothpaste.

Henry rolled avay from her

voice. banged his head on the nightable and

lapsed back into sleep. She carme out of the bathroom the small white towel barely cor-

top of the television set and dropped it into

"I'm plaşing cards this morming. will you come with? Henty shook his head." Then meet me in the restaurant at eleven thirty.

we'll have lunch."

"One." Trelve Henry and dont be late. Get onto the beach. go for a walk. Do something. anything. I don't care what. but don't just lie

there.

We'll see."

Splvia picked up the room key from the

"What do you mean." she said. Henry shook himself awake.

What?

"I heard gou say. quite loudly. isn't it ever

enough?

"Didn'." He rolled onto his side and tucked the right side of his face into the pillow. With his left ege half open he watched his vwife dry

herself. running the towel across her back

and up through her legs as if she were alone in the room. She dropped the damp towel

to the

oor and struggled to stretch her

bathing suit up and orer her hips. binding rolls of

vacation

"1 don't know.

ering her sunburm.

esh together into a seamless blue

and green ower.

"You'd think for sixt- ve dollarsS a night and no iew of the beach they'd at least have a tub instead of a shower so small you

can't even turn around in it." Henry rear-

ranged his pillow. "Are you geting up?"

"In a minute" "This is our vacation."

"A minute.

"A minute l should wait or a minute you'll

meet me in the coffee shop.

"Soon. Go vwithout me."

"Henry. you only çet two weeks a year.

We used up one çeting gour hermia xed

and now for four days gou've just been lying there. When are gou getúng up?

27

fi

fl

fl

by a.m. homes

fl

fl

longest

fl

fl

fi

the

her purse.

"I have a key." she said as she opened the

door and let in heat and the smell of french es. "Get up Henrg." The door closed vith a heavy vacuum seal type sound. Outside people vwere coming back from breakíast.

their ip- ops slapping against the cement sidewalk. Mu ed voices came through the wall behind Henry's bed. A whining child and a man with a thin voice.

fi

fi

fl

fi

fi

pour mother says." Their

opened and ckosed several times

r coukd picture someone stickingan an out to see what kind of da it was "fI so much assee şou ço near the water hefore gour breakfast settles gou'll spend the rest of this trip at gour grandmother's

house." the mother grovled.

"But." the kid said.

scraping his plastic raft along the

ground.

"Pck it up or leave it in the room." the man said.

"Can I go home now." the kid whined.

"Home. wy. we're having fun" Their door slammed shut and the hangers in Henry's ckoset rattled açainst cach other.

He lifted up the telephone receiver and

"Tl just ço next door for now."

the shark vwatching him.

"They'e gone down to the beach." He sat up in bed. wrapping the sheet around his

waist. "I heard them leave" The girl nodded and withdrew. closing the door as she left.

down the sidewalk. As soon as he heard her

unkock the room next door he hopped out of bed and quickły hurried over to the window. The clean white sheet clenched at his

waist dragged across the

oor. Quickly he

pulled the drapes closed and slipped the door chain into place. In the bathroom Henry let the sheet fall to the oor and stood watching himself in the hard

lourescent

light. He took a few deep breaths, brushed

his teeth.

forçeting

to spit and

instead

read the instructions for placing an outside

swalloving the thick green foam. Henry pull

call at least ten times before he dialed.

ed his thirty gear old blue bathing suit from

"Helo.

Mort." he said. trying to sound

jovial. "How's thestore

the suitcase and slipped it on along with a winkled. baby blue. long sleeve button

"Fine. same as yesterday."

down. He tossed one of the hotel's thin white

"Everything else ok?

towels orer his shoulder and stepped out the door. Henry walked barefoot down the hot wooden planks that croSsed the dune like a

"Arags is. So. are gou çetting some sun?"

Well" Henry reached under the bed and pulled out a battered pomo magazine he'd discovered the daş betore vhile looking for a lost sock" Not much. I don't like that busi-

ness with geting burmed.

"You coukd use some lotion.

"No.

I

don't

think so.

not

right

now.

Besides, it never works. I've got very fair

man dancing on coals. When he reached the end he lfted up one foot and examined it.

surprised to nd it slightly red and not at all bleeding. Weaving in and out of plaid blankets, umbrellas and ice chests he made hisvway to the hard wet sand. On either side

of him people ran in and out of the water.

skin." Henry pped through the magazine.

Wel. gou'e got the number here. call if

diving into the waves. The water lapped up

something comes up.

ing his feet further into the sand. Every now

"Will do. Relax. have a good time. It is

"Yeah."

onto Henrg's ankles. wave after wave. suck-

and then he'd viggle his toes until he could see the long carefully

gour vacation.

led nails

poking

through the sand.

Henry

said.

hanging

up

the

"There's something out there." a man said

phone. He continued ipping through the magazine. slipping his left hand under the

Io Henry as he waded out of the water. hitch-

sheet and over his private parts. Henry rolled away from the vindow and lost him-

ing up his sagging bathing suit.

"A sh." Henry said.

self in a fantasy that incotved the hotel cof-

"I dunno. but I saw two eyes looking at

fee shop. his wife. the ladies she was playing

me." Heng shrugged. The man walked out

cards with and the eighteen year old girl dis-

of the water. His small son was playing in the

plaged on the gloss pages. He didn't hear the door when it opened.

salty white foam. 'come and play on the

"Scuse me." the hotel maid said. Henry jumped

blanket for awhile." he said, scooping up the kid. pail. shovel and all. The water was blue

under the sheets as he snapped

and then green and then brown as Henry

back into the room. "1 didn't know there

gazed out across the ocean. Exactly how far

was angbody sull here."

it was to China. he wondered.

"Just geting a littde extra. sleep." Henry said.

circle of screaming people. They were all

"The sign was on showed

him

the.

the

"Maid

All of the sudden he was surrounded by a

The girl

pointing in the direction of Henry's feet. He

Make Uup This

looked down to see a small shark. about two

door."

"Get a stick or something and Il put him back in the water." Henry said. still watching

she pushed the cleaning car a little further

"Great." the kid said. walking past Henry's room.

"Tmgetingup."Henrysaid "l justtalke me a minute."

Through the window Henry watched her as

"That's the way it goes.

Room." side of the plastic." Do Not Disturb"

and a half feet long. Iying barely inches from

sign.

his left ankle. He pulled his foot out of the

"My vwife must have put that up."

wet sand. The shark looked up at Henry.

"Well I'l come back later." the girl said. backing out of the room and into the cart

"Everyone stand back." someone with no authority ordered but the crowd backed off

she'd left outside.

anyway.

28

fi

fi

fl

fi

fi

fi

fi

fi

fl

fl

shatenr

"How do you know it's a him? a woman

asked. No one ansvered. The shark's gils puffed in and out.

"Please çet something sol can help him."

Henrypleaded."He's not happ." To people on the fringe of the circle went running off looking for sticks.

"A broom handle would work." an old woman said.

"Il

be ok" Hengy said to the

sh.

"They'll be right back." The crowd began to

break up and some nev people came for a look.

"Il's a shark.

"Harold. stay back." a mother said. nearly ripping her child's arm off as he tried to

move in for a closer look. "t might bite gou." Henry looked up and down the beach for the people who'd çone off to nd sticks.

He sa one of them talking to the guy who rented umbrellas.

"Is that yours a little girl asked. pointing towards the sh.

"No." Henrg said. "Im waiting for someone to get something so l can put him back in the water." Henrg ooked dowm at the ittle girl. She was about seven and wore a

bathing suit vwith a ower cut out around her belly button.

"People sometimes eat them." she said.

"Not very nice is it." Henry said watching the sh veho appeared to be haing dif culty breathing.

"No." the little çirl said. She bent over towards the sh. picked it up by its tail and threw it into the surf.

"Bye." she said as she walked away.

At the beach-side bar Henry ordered a double gin and tonic. The drink arrived in a large plastic tumbler with a red paper umbrella and a yellow and blue wisted stravw.

He pickked up the drink and walked back towards the ocean siping carefuly from the edge of the glass. Near the water he spread out his towel., took his shirt off and offered his pale white skin to the sky. When the

drink was nished and the ice long since crushed betveen his javs. Henry stood and

forçeting he couldn't sim. three himself. with a loud war whoop headlong into the vaves.

aL

fl

fi

fl

"Ae

66 A U in all. it's been a çood life." his said.

"Don't sap that." he said.

"But it has," she said.

"I know. but you don't have to say it like

travels in a

foreign country by todd stewart

you sag it." he said.

They were silent. He watched the slow drip of the intravenous

uid. He tried read-

ing the label. It was upside down and the

long words discouraged him.

She siçhed. He stared at her face but her eyes were on the

television

set. It was a

soap opera. The sound was turned down.

He didn't like soap operas because they made him think of rainy afternoons. He

wouldn't be allowed to go outside to play and his mother would be doing the ironing. It would be dark outside though it was

afternoon. The Edge of Night would be on and the distilled water in the iron would

qurgle back and forth.

"Im

hungrg."

she

said.

"I

know

I

shouldn't be but I am."

Why shouldn't gou be? he asked. He knew why. The doctor had told them about

it "You haven't eaten anything all da,." he said.

"T know." she said. And then she laughed.

He frovmed. He was angry at her for complaining and then angry at himself for being angry at her. He thought of her slow loss of appetite over the past few months. There

was one evening hen

they had gone to

The Red Lobster. She hadn't

nished her

fried clams and the french fries and cole

slaw had remained untouched. The waitress

had askedif everything was all right.

He

realized

he

was

hungry

and

felt

ashamed. When he was a child he ahrags

told his mother there was a lion in his bely.

"Why don't gou go and get yourself a snack." his vife said. "Im all right."

"No." he said.

He ipped through a magazine. He would

stop every now and then to look at the prety women in some of the ads. He would tum the paçe when he felt his wife's eges

on him.

"Should I close the drapes?" he asked. The

sun was climbing across the foot of her bed.

"No." she said. "Thank you.

You can live without a spleen. the doctor

had told them. But he knew they were tak ing his wife away piece by piece. A jigsaw puzzle. He thought of when she had had her hysterectomy six years aço. There was no rush and she had chosen to have it done in

the spring. That way she ould be free from her job during the summer and could work in the garden. she had said. That would

ray gesumaria

make it easier, she had said. she didn't like

being cooped up. When he came into her room after the operation he had tried to

smile. Aftermoon sunlight poked through gaps in the drapes.

30

fi

fi

fl

"How do gou feet? he had asthed.

"There is an anvil on top of me." she had said.

"ShouldI tum up the volume on the tele

feel ne."

knuckle. she pulled on the string while tist-

"She's hungrg." he said.

ing the wedding band. It came off like a nut

"That's a good sign." the nurse said, tum-

off a bolt.

ing her smile on him. He felt like a child

again. The nurse checked the botle of intra-

vision? he asked.

"No." she said. And then açain, with a

smile, "No." "Do gou remember." he said. "vwhen we were in Europe a few years ago? We were in

Munich, waiting for our train to Geneva. We were standing in the train station and that Arab asked us if we wanted to drive a car to

penous uid.

"Well now." the nurse said to his wife. "gou're

going

to have to

remove

gour

jewelry for me."

put the ring in a manila envelope along with necklace and earings. and left. The doctor

"I think Il step out for a moment." he said.

clasped her gold neckace.

"Im afraid gou'll have to take off your

"My ring won't come off." his wife said. "It

"Yes." she said.

The nurse held the ing between thumb and fore nger. He didn't reply when she asked if that wasn't something. The nurse

would come in soon.

His wife took off her earrings. She un-

wedding band. too." the nurse said.

Iran. Do gou remember?

"All right." she said. "Get gourself a tuna sandwich in the cafeteria." she called after him.

"You wanted to o." he said.

hasn't come off for gears. I expect

you'd

He walked down the halway. trying not to

"Yes. Yes, I did. I don't

have to cut my nger off at the joint in order

look in any of the half open doors. The

to remove it." she said, laughing.

He thought of boning chicken on Sunday aftemoons when he made curried chicken.

nurse was behind the reception desk. laugh-

"We have wags, we have ways." the nurse said. And she laughed, also.

hands.

know vhg. but I

did."

"1 thought gou were joking." he said.

"No." she said. "No. I wasn't."

"A stupid idea." he said. "Absurd."

"Magbe." she said. And she closed her eges.

She took a roll of thread from her skirt pocket. Edging the string beneath the wed-

The nurse entered the room. She greeted

both of them, smiling.

"How are gou feeling? the nurse asked his wife.

"A ittle weak." she said. "but otherwise

ding band so one end stuck out near the

knuckle. the nurse wrapped his wife's nger

with the thread.

"Now." the nurse said. "watch

closely."

Grasping the end of the thread nearest the 31

fi

fi

anna otchin

ing at something an orderly had just told her. The manila envelope was still in her The heat was like a slap in the face when he went outside. He crossed the parking lot

and got in his car, sweating while he waited for the air conditioning to blow cool air. He

paid the parking attendarnt and tumed left on the two lane highway. toward the Interstate.

"Iran," he said out loud, shaking his

head.

al.

wendy vail

learning the moon...

A sliver So thin,

we could kiss it vwith our lips.

Cradled by dense sky. pinpricked vwith light Seven sisters in the Pleiades.

some orange. others blue.

Cassiopeia is turned in the vinter sky. so crisp and cleansing.

Soon the moon will be full.

Soon we will reason the summer stars.

mira courpas 39