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I saw Odysseus on the "I-l'last Saturday making pilgrimage to Penelope. His arrogance disrobed brawn Withered his faithfulness, molded him to man.

Penelope foiled in chicken grease, clothed his absence She keeps pure like his ego Seven years oflipsticked collars I can only see his ashes, $UNHqI t He's a man I saw only once, getting offat the California stop.

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I saw Odysseus on the train last Saturday Rails humming into their patterns His flannel soaked in thick bourbon Moons under the rims of his eyes His face blunt with corroded stubble Penelope is only an image, Ithaca, only smoke Still convinced he is a man, I'm convinced he is a boy.

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WASHINGTON-After grid locked debate, the Senate has voted on the restaurant from which to order pizzafor Speaker of the House fohn Boehner's 65th birthday extravaganza, scheduled for November 17th of 2014. This monumental decision has been the source of much controversy over the past two years since the bill first went to committee in 2011. "This bill has been close to all of our hearts here, and we haven't given up on the people of this great nation. It has to be Papa |ohn's, no compromises. I mean, seriously. Have you tried their breadsticks?" Cathy Rodgers (R, WA) stated at a press conference this morning. This statement comes after attacks from Democratic Party leaders on Republicans'supposed overuse of the filibuster whenever Democratic leaders brought the idea of ordering from Dominoes to the floor. "I'm just saylng, I have a $2 offcoupon for breadsticks with any order of $15 or more, and I think we have an obligation to spend our taxpayers' money prudently,' David Loebsack (0, IA) reportedly announced during debates, before being jeered away from the podium with shouts of "Commie" and "Fascistl'At press time, debate on what toppings to order on the pizzas is underway, with voting projected to take place by March of next year. Wn Drucxpv

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In her mind there's a sparrow A soft, brown, and speckled thing, That wakes her in the morning as he sings. His wrinkled feet skip, Slowly, at first, then faster. His feathered wings unfurl, Timid, at first, then braver. Her heart keeps a beat, To his little tiny feet, And her head bobs in time, To his special, simple rhyme, And her hope rests in full On the small yet willing wings Which never cease nor falter, And it changes her mind, As the creature skips inside, So she walks with her head in the clouds. Ct trtyN DoxNrzr.e y P ow na

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IN MessecHUSETTS

Everything that was light moved up and down with the wind, everything that wasnt held still, seeming perpetually strong. The wind chime hanging from the roof of the porch never ceased ringing, each blade of grass below the steps swerved back and forth cutting into the chalky air, the stone walkway leading to the steps and the front door to the house were paler than they had seemed two days before. Mark Gertrude stood outside on a concrete sidewalk and watched the trees rustle and listened to the static sound made by the air against the leaves. The clouds in the sky moved fast and a wooden sign on hinges, hanging from a shaft of a light pole swung back and forth. A white rabbit flickered amongst the tall grasses near the edge of the lawn and then disappeared back into the green. A yellow glow hummed from inside the house and his hat blew offand fell to the ground into a pile of brown leaves. He picked up his hat back onto his head and went inside. The air inside the house was warm and moist and stale and smelled of roasted chestnuts. The starchy brown aroma was thick and he could feel it resting under his nose and on the upper lip.

"Hello, Gertrude, yes, is that it? I'm sorry; I like to know my tenants well enough and dont usually forget names too often. Give me another few days and I'll get your name on a peach! I swear I'm not usually this terrible. You'll excuse me, pl-ease. Supper's in an hour, but if you wont hold'til then I could get something. Would you?" "No, I'll be fine until then thank youJ' Mark headed to a wooden staircase at the back of the house that leads up to the second floor and then on the third floor, to his room. "Have you heard about Dunhill? What a shame it is about Dunhill, and an arrful mess. You havent heard? Oh, that's right, you mustnt know the man. Oh, that's for mel' A whistle blew from inside the kitchen in the next room and the landlord left to the noise, waddling away in red socks, collecting dust. Mark stood, leaning on the banister of the staircase and could hear the squeaking of his feet against the insides of his boots and the creaking of the wood beneath them. The smell of dark tea brewing came through the hallway from the kitchen and lifted the drowse from the air. He began to ascend the stairs slowly, Iooking up the passage to a painting hanging on the wall of the landing of a young boy and a small girl dressed in wool and cotton. "Would you likesome tea at least?" He unlocked the hatch of his door, went in, and hung his coat on the side of a radiator

against the wall. He pulled his hair back against his scalp with his fingertips and left his boots tied,looked down to a leather cased box by the foot of his bed, and sat on a chair besidethe wall, pulling the box close to and in between his feet. There was a weathered brass lock onthe front of the box where the two halves met. He opened the box and lifted open the top half,hitting it against the foot of the bed making a hollow noise. The box was filled with old papersand photographs of people and landscapes, which he shuffled up with his hands digging deeper. Grabbing hold he let the pictures fall back into place and pulled out with an old pistol in his right hand. The pistol was silver with black in the crevasses and looked cold to the touch. The handle was worn smooth by what appeared to be the hands of a stronger man. His fingers looked small and frail when his squeezed the handle. The door to his room was left open and the owner knocked three times on the threshold. Mark quickly put the gun back in the box, resting it on the photographs and letters, and shut the toP.

"I brought you some tea. t hope it's not too hot, or for that matter too cold. There's quite the breeze out there, you could use a bit of warming up, 1 imagine." The voice was as gay and jolly as the owner's red complexion. "I dont know how you take it. Sugar? Cream? See, 1 still dont know you very well, but with time and few drinks that'll all be fixed up." "Cream and sugar," "Cream and sugar, yes, I wont forget it! I'll mark it down in my head, you be sure I wont

forget!"

The owner handed a cup to Mark and spooned some sugar into his own. Markdrank from the cup and didnt look down at the box. He looked out of the window to his right at the far away trees where the edge of the field turned black against the forest. "So, Mark, that's it, Mark. I remember that one well enough, how have you been getting along so far. It's only been a week, hasnt it? One can learn much about H- in only a week or so. You know, I know it's none of my business, but I saw you have a photograph on your dresser of a young boy on your stand. A nephew of yours?" said the owner. "No, he's my son, but he looks a lot different now I'm sure of itl' "Fantastic, Mr. Gertrude. I ve always been envious of fathers. Myself. No. Ite never had a child. And the child's mother?" "We had a divorce" said Mark.

A moment of silence passed and the window in his room rattled as the wind blew by it. The owner stood up his legs and walked to the threshold of the door. 'Well, I'11leave you as you were. Dinners dont cook themselves!" When the owner left he shuffled through the box and took out from under the papers a small green box which rattled as he set it down on the table with the lamp and the photograph of his son. Holding it from one end he turned it over and let out a few cartridges. Putting them in the pocket of his right pant leg, Mark stood up and put the revolver into one of the larger pockets of his coat. He took it up from the side of the radiator and slung his arms through the holes, then walked down the stairs to the first floor and went out the front door and out onto a field. The blades of grass were tall and sharp, whirling and clinging to the bottoms of his pants as he walked further away from the house. At the place where the edge of the field turned dark against the trees, where the sun could be seen going down, he stood just inside the tree line, looking up at the grey clouds through the tips of the branches. He removed the gun from his jacket and slid three cartridges in the chamber. He closed the chamber and lifted the cold pistol up with his right hand, held it still in the air, hesitated with one eye closed and then both, and pulled the trigger. Mark stepped close, picked up the quail by the legs, and Ieft deeper into the wood.

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Serp-OssESSED