THE MESSENGER
Contributors
Bradford Anne Robertson
John Anderson
Steve Snyder
RobertEditor-in-chief G. Epstein
Dave Larson
Holly Anna Jones
Rick 3arnit
Shelby Seitz
Recess robert g. epatein
The bell rang and the second graders scattered out over the playground. Tricky Dick and Eager Edmund chose up oides for the football game.
"Jolly Johnr:y, you're the ref," said Eager Edmund.
"That's no fair, why?" cried Jolly Johnny.
"Because whatever team you're on, you al,,ays want to b e quarterback," was the reply. "And you, Garrulous George, can't be quarterback, because you call too many power sweeps to the right."
"Also, Jolly Johnny," said 'rricky Dick, "If there's any cheating, you better not hide it no matter how many marbles they g ive you."
On the first play fro 1, scri r,1mage, Tricky Die l: sent his blockers to the left, ran to the ri ght, and got dumped by Garrulous George.
"Stay outa mah territory," yelled Garrulous George.
"How come you never tell us what you're gonna do?" asked Rocky to his quarterback.
"I don't think he knows himself 1-:hat he's doing," said Ranting Ronald.
"There is most definitely an interr eg nu 1.. of enlightenment," recited Slinky Spiro.
"Go soak your head in a cesspool," replied Tricky Dick.
"Hey Happy Hubert," yelled Eag er Edmund, "stop running around i n circles and g et in the hu ,.:dle."
Just then Generous George and Gentle Gene pranced by holding hands.
"Hey you two, you wanna play," asked Ea ,; er Edmund.
"Nooooo, somebody mig ht get hu rt," was the reply, "And anyway ,,e' re on our way to ballet practice."
"Bunch of sissy queers," said Ranting Ronald. "They're always tr1in;dng they're on a sta t:e , just play acting."
A eroup of little black boys wandered onto the field.
"Wh~t's the meaning of t i is?" yelled Lousy Lester.
"I i nvited a few of my friends to play," replied Jolly Johnny. "T t1ey really didn't want to, but I told them we'd give them tne ball after the game."
"What?" screamed Garrulous George, backed up by Lou sy Lester and Stud Strom. "Just because they put us in the same school them, doesn't mean we have to play with them."
"But this is their neigl1borho i,d we're in," replied Jolly Johnny. But Garrulous Geor t e and his friends looked as if they wanted a fight.
"Golly," said Rocky to Jolly Johnny, "Can't you run anything right?"
At that moment a little girl raced onto the field yelling "Everybody come see, Tipsy Teddy is throwing all the girls into the pond again."
And everybody ran off to see, leaving Tricky Dic k with the ball.
anonymous
Gentle and soft I fall in the wind and the trees catch me.
Gentle and soft the rain feeds me its love.
Gentle and soft I dive in the clouds and float in the waves.
Gentle and soft the velvet petals of flowers toJCh my eyes.
Gentle and soft.
The time is winter, cold and still.
The wind dusts the snow upon the world
And the sun weaves a blanket
Through the black and naked trees.
Come Rain. You are the earth's milk Falling fron , a soft and white breast.
:Passion swells me with it's hunger And time feeds me without mercy.
The moon is caught between the trees. (But please don't cut them down.)
It is cold and the trees are painted black with India ink outside my window. But the moon is white chalk and I can't go out because there are some crazy people in the world today.
Weeds
Alone and drug g ed with sleepiness I lay in bed thin k ing of you. I l i ve in worlds of fantasy, dreaming and hoping someday I'll be able to live this fantasy.
I am on the beach and it is night. The waves beat g ently against the shore-now the ocean is alone, no more people. Tonight we will sleep 1-:ith each other's warmth and wake to go to the sea.
But I am just dreaming. (and dreaCJs aren't all that bad) Tomorrow I will wake alone and go to school with t 11e bright lights and cold walls and I cry because of this.
For all the days of · my life I have spent so fe11 as my dreams would have ~e do.
The lonely web of life has caugl1t me tonight and I am prey to tears, I feel an apathetic resignation to m_yfeelings. You make dreams and the reality of people tears them apart.
plastic flowers--pla c.;tic chairs--cement walls-brick walls--painted green--dirty glass windows-metal all around them--dirty plastic blinds-bright florescent lights--wires--chains
A Bird Sings!
The birds are flyine; golden through the whiteness. Come slowly and watch me melt I am alone and even in crowds but I do have God and a maybe you and that's enough not to make me lonely only sometimes lonely but that's not the same as alone please - take my hand and show me you care then take my body and I \•till be lost. will y ou find me?
2
Set me free world to bathe in the remains of your originality. Don't bound me in your cage of facts. Let me run freely to be myself.
There is a voice that cries in anguish and asks for love and asks for understanding and he cries in anguish •.•
bradford ann robertson
That summer •.•
your hair, its redness like crinkled fallen leaves just before winter
your iceber g blue eyes, warmth smoldering in their watery depths
your face, a windowpane reflecting sunshine or shaLtering at the patter of a raindrop.
your hands, their nervous fluttering sustaining every word on airy flngerti_ps.
your impulsiveness, a subterranean stream surging free as a spring .
•and me,. cries shall warm all the bitter, bleak winters to come.
john anderson
Little Jason lived in a grand old house near the edge of the dark woods. His was on the t,1ird floor and was very, very hi g h a bove t he ground. He spent most of his time looking from hi s window at the world; at least, he thought it was the ,:orld, for he had never been far away from the old house. Once he h ~d gone to the top of the hill on the opposite side of the house from the dark woods, but he had been unable to see down to the bottom of the other side because t i1ere ha d been so many clo uds. And once he had ventured to t he e . ge of t h e dark woods. Hut he was too frightened to go into the forest. And so h r, sat and st a red out of his window-and wondered if there was ILOre.
'Time passed--and little Jason s.,ondered and .-,ondered s ome more. On some days, when the sun was s hining, he would walk over to the edge of the dar.k woods, for they did not seem quite as frightening when the sun was out. And as the days went by, his curiosity grew and e;rew. Jason had taken to sta ,1ding on the wood's edge and p c,,ering in through the trees and vines and foliage for hours at the time.
One day, when the sun seemed to be shining more brightly than usual, Jason found a small path 1•1hile wal ,.ing along the e •:ge of the woods. He tried to look down the path into the forest to s~ e ~here lt went, but it t·11isted and t<1rne d so muc"r 1 tr1at little Jason could not follow it 1-rith his eyes. He kne •,1 that the li t tle trail hill] to g o somev1ltere, so he carefully
began to enter the woods. The trees \-/ere tall and straight on both sides of the path, and there were small forest flowers and fine green ferns on the ground. In some places, vines that grew between the trees hung over his head and made the path like a narrow tunnel. Jason went slowly and cautiously and looked at everything around him with wide, curious eyes. But he did not stop or even think about turning back--for he was certain that there was more bf the v.corld at the end of the path. He walked for what seemed like hours, all the while looking at the foliage on both sides of the path. The plants and flowers were never the same, and there seemed to be an endless number of them. Jason gre•,{ very tired and sat down to rest for a while--and dropped into slumber within a very few moments.
1'/hen he awoke, he rubbed his eyes, and remembering where he was, continued his 1rek down the path. It seemed to him that the woods weren't quite as thick as they had been near the ed g e. And as he walked, the flowers and undergrowth began to thin out. Ahead, the trail wound its way toward the to p of a small bill. 1/hen Jason reached the top, the view caused his eyes to ope " wide, and his mouth dropped open.
Ilelow him, and for as far as he could see, was a barren wasteland. There were no trees, no plants, no ferns, no flowers--only rocks and dirt. There were holes all over the ground and the wind caused dust to swirl into the air. Surely, thought Jason, this couldn't be all there is to the rest of the world. As he surveyed the wasteland, two men appeared from inside of one of the holes in the ground. <ihen they sa., Jason at the top of the knoll, they waved to him and beclconed for him to come toward them. Jason stumbled down the h ill and, when he got close to them, he s aw that they were tall, stout men with heavy, dark beards. But they urged him to come closer, and their voices seemed kind enough, so Jason went closer. One of the men went bac k into the h ole, and when he came out, he pointed a gun at Jason and told him to sit down. The other man handed Jason a book and ordered him to read it. Jason was complet e ly baffled. He asked them why they were doing this to him. But the men would not answer, so Jason began to read the book. This isn't so bad, he thought, and he even smiled for a while. Soon his rear be gan to a che from sitting, and the gun ne .:t to his h e ad began to bother him--and his rear really d id hurt from sitting so long. But they kept the gun at his head, not even moving it away when little Ja s on cried, so he k ept on readin g After a while, he came to a part of the book that said something, and he began to understan d what was happen'ing. He jumped up and h it the gun aviay, but when he did this the men began to wail like bansh e es. The sound frightened Ja s on so badly that he sat down ag a in, and they held the gun to his head _again, and he be gan reading again, an d cryi n g as he read. Soon he came to another tiny part of the book that made sense, and he jumr ed up and hit t he gun away a gain. This time their wails did not frighte n him as much and h e ran away into the wa steland.
1ihen Ja ;;on thou ght he was a safe distance a way, he stopped and looked ba ck--saw that t he two men ,;e re crying. They cried and cried, and soon t h eir tears were so many that they formed a flood on their end of the wasteland. Little Ja s on began to cry himself a nd he wondered if it was right or wrong to run a wa y like that. ,ihen Jason I s little tears merged with the flood from the tears of the two men, the water be 13:an to rise. Jason knew he c ould not go bac k to t h em, and he really didn't think he wanted to any way. So the two men just stood there and little Jason just stood where he was , and all the while t ,ie flood waters were rising and risin g and rising. Before lon{; the tear flood forced Jason to climb up on top of a large boulder. From here, he could see the t ,rn men very well. They were groping in the water for the gun. Finally they found it, but the w,<ter was GO dP-ep that t h ey lost t ·,eir footing while trying to hold on to the g ,m, and they were dra gg ed do-.-m into t he water's depths. They d id not come to t t1e surface. Jason' s deli g ht at being fr e e of tl1em was s u dde n ly nullified when he realized ho,. , alone he was He began looking all around from his vanta g e ;:,oint,
hoping to see anything or anyone th;t cculd keep him company in this dreadful, ba ren place. For hours and hours he sat alone in the 1·iasteland. But finally--he s p otted the book flo at ing in t~e water, and when it floated near enough to him, he stretched out and pu lled it in to his r ock. He opened the book and placed it in the BLm to dry, and when it was thoroughly dry, he began reading again--this tice without tne pressure of a gun at his head. As he read, he came to ILore and more parts that had re a l meaning, and he realized ti1at the rnen 1.,•hohad drowned kne,-: about these parts. If only they had •t used that terrible gu n! It was the gun, after all, that had caused their deaths. Ja ;-on wished he coul d find t11em and t 'l ank them for trying, or for trying to try.
\ihen the flood had receded and the sun began drying everything off, Jason jumped do·.-m from his roc k and went off in search of the m. But befor e he reached the spot ·,,here he had la ,,t seen them, he saw a little boy running and playing between the rocks. rhe boy ap i;ea red to be a year or so yoi..nger than Jason, and he wa c filled s;ith l aug~ ter and bubbling over with happiness. Jason noticed all o l' this, and wan ted to 2i1ar9 what he had learned w!.th hin:--not lm o•.-;ing t ha t the child ·.-:as · hat he ·,,;anted to be. He was s imply too young. But Jas on ,,,.ent c!p to him anyway and handed ,1im the book, hoping he ·.-:ould r ead it. The c iiild didn't even want to h old the book, much less read it, for he v1as far too contented to lau g h and dance under the blue sky and be happy. Phis angered Jason and his face was a very flustered red when he t ·.1rned and ra n toward the spot where the men had been. After only a short searcl1, he found the gun stuck in the mud, but saw no t h in g of the two men. 1/hile he cleaned t he mud off of t he gun, he ,;re w angrier and angrier at the thought of ~he child not t ak ing the book. He ran back to the little bo y and handed him the book--this time pu ttirn. ; the gun up to his head and forcin c; him to sit down.
So the c h ild be ~an to r ead , and he r eta ine d h is hap in eos as he read, at least for a while. But tr ,en his r e:,r began to hurt, and he be g an to cry. Jason knew the child must not get up or he wo;.ild never learn, so he ,i ept the gun at his head and forcf! d him to read more. Be fore lon g , the boy go t to a p a r t that meant somethine, and Ja ~on ,ia s c aught comp letely by s urprise when he jumped up fro m n is sea t and knoc k ed the gun a;,;ay. And young Jason wailed li k e a b an shee •••
Handball steve snyder
The black rubb e r oall made a slap-in-the-face sound ,·1hen it struck y our hand and the noise of an elbow i.n tl 1e c h est as it b oun ced ae;a.i n s t t,1e wall. It could only bounce once af ter it st ruc k t he wa ll, and you had to send it back, fa st and hard, rnov ing you r arr,1 inside a ui le-an- l10ur-arc and. ca rryin g your open hand like half a club in k illi ng motion.
There wer e f our walls in the r oom , and you watched two little men in a padded ohoeb ox •.. if :,·ou c ou ld h a ve gone so far be y ond t •:in gs just to ·,,,at ch ycur,rn lf. One made of himself a wild and unsteady for m ,w he rose in the air to catch a shot t:iat came b ack high. He ·,.; s lone and thin ,1i t h a head of so many blac k s pir a l s at ·,·:ar--lost in !,is motion. lie hrd forr;otten his smile, having pac ,red it away in a trunk that he 1'or·,·;arded ::;ome·..ti.ere--ma/be ju s t ano"th.~ r city-place. And, even if he had worn it toni g ht, h e would have turned it over t r ying to win. I kne·,1 that madman well. '1e tried to turn handball games into gladiator wars ••• into death duel s and endless qu :c-sts for red rocks and holy grails. For him, to win is to sea rch for the thirteent h c no rd on a twelve s trin e; guit a r.
His friend's movements were more certain--intent on where they were going--a hand that was open and ready and even able to see into the fu ture. Now you wait for the ball while a thought storm sweeps you off the floor. lt's not good to go so far beyond things that you watch yourself
Curt, Denny, and Hondo dave larson
The national anthem ends with mixed emotion. "Play-ball" read the lipreaders in centerfield. McLain warms up, Cazzie pegs to second. Rip-snortin No Neck ,villiams bangs his spikes. (No relation to our man Ted;)
Luciano motions to begin. The crowd Hopes for three up, three down. "Rotty hots here, hotty hots, Ice cold beer man," Peanuts, pennants, Not in D.C. in 38 ye a rs!
Bloop single to left. Hondo lopes in. Relays to s ho rtstop Harran from P ittsfield. Hoorah for Harrah. Farewell Eddie B. McLain, alias cold showe r, fans the side, No runs, one hit, no errors-- a mirn.cle?
The hometown heroes are up at last. Floo d singles, easily swipes se cond, cle a ts high. Josephson, the Sox burly backstop spits, Alvardo, or Avacado, a t short ho t-dogs Unser's meek liner. The stands vibrate.
Excitement steps to the plate, eyes the hurler. Hondo, Hondo, Hondo, chant the fans. Electricity flows fro m bleacher bum to bum. Babe Ruth , Ott, Gehrig, rolled into one. Ful l co unt , Howard spasmodically jerks his neck.
Every muscle strains in Har len's fearful body. Apollo 15 is la , mched from Frank's mighty bat. A broken fin g er 500 feet away, my hero's Homer I cau ght today.
Master Thomas Geoffrey holly anna jon es
I walked in tow of the boyish s ilhoue ote, And passin g alleys in streaming li ght Wondered at th e tuft of yellow hair, a nd yet •//hen at the corner arcade he turned, The blue eyes, bu rning bright, Explained his being man.
i(ent State dave larson
My country tis for me
Land of false integrity. Emotional pains and ill s, And taking social pills.
I, but one life to give Where is my choice?
Figi1t for security to live Speak not oh hostile voice.
Land of the chastized Home of the crime wave.
J;;ndless struggle to cocipete, With prices on Wall Street.
Forever loyal, don't protest, Reme~ber authority rei gris. rhrow a stone or piece of rock, "Dead on arrival," says the doc!
The door is shut and closed
rick harnit
Behind that door America is ·.,atching ·rv
In a cheap old pink bathrobe with fak e go ld lace, she watches · rv
::i th roue;e on her 1-:rinkled sk in and Johnson powder
Sweet smelling on her arms
After a good, nice, warm bath, Glad she didn't slip
And break something, America is ,;a tc hing TV
So weak, so fat you wonder how her husband would ever have wanted to even touch her
You feel guilty, her fl a bbiness repulses you
The words on the telly are at the sixth grade level of comprehension, yet to her
Cronkite is barely intelligible, America is watc,1ing TV
The commercial comes on so she thinlrn about something happy Last week, she had the nerve to whisper to the minister
And stretch her lips out a~ far as she could And tell him it ·..,as a wonderful sermon. Her car is too big for her.
On the fifty-ninth floor the show returns. Dean r•;artin lies on the floor Her sofa covered just in case; she alone, the do or is sh ut and closed So nervous and so scared, see the doctor tomorrow. America is a s\ve et old bitch.
The Jedding Feast shelby seitz
China conception, Admit y our fragile frigidity-And I ·,rnn' t break yo u.
Circus Ropes holly anna jones
Nearer, nearer, farther, farther, In arrogant leisure they tea s ed. Following the swinging twists of hemp, I sat, instantly unready for what shunning eyes Seized
As they sallied closer and closer, Then hesitated; went 'while mended net and yellowed sequins heralded The light thud of her rendezvous with sawdust. And they still ebbed; With their rhythm we marched to the canvas door. Nearer, nearer, farther, farther, And their movement ruled one less, one more.
Shut-In donna strother
Who holds the key to the troubles of time, 'rhe wind and the rains and the seedlings whose prime \'fill never be rendered in blossoms to boast The ways of our peoples, from inland to coast.
The cell walls are shaking from cries heard within, The chains and the hammers, the tortures which bend The minds of the children, whose manners are apt To sha k en the elders from yesterday's nap.
And yet, in the distance are folks who say, "yes, There's still time for progress, 'Go west, young man, west!'"
But west meets the east in today's modern scope, And welfare is bigger than dimensions of hope.
So 2000 beckons its way to the scene As we yearly decrease from the fat to the lean, And heralds of power streak the sky with their zoom, vlhile shaking the cell bars of dirt, smog, and g loom.
Time for a Change robert g. epstein
"The only solution is to ship everyone of those goddamn ni ggers back to Africa!" exclaimed the heavy s,~t man, as his beer slobberred down his
unshaven chin onto the bar.
"I \>'Ouldn' t go that far, Randall," stated Jackson, his drinking companion standing next to him, "But soruethine; has to be done before that Pinko mayor from New York the kykes, ni gge rs, and Yankees elected Fresident gives the whole country to the blacks.n
"First thing that bastard did was to make it a felony to fight busing," the man on the other side of Randall joined in, "Shit, my brother got 18 months for refusing to send his kids ten miles across tov.n to some rundown ni ,;ger school."
"I can't wait to see what he's gonna say about the welfare payments when he comes on TV in half an hour," muttered Randall as he glared at the screen above the bar.
"I heard he' c gonna call for a .,,300 0 minimum annual payment to every person ·on t he welfare rolls," replied Jackson, "I break my back in the factory for :;;150 a week so I can supvort some Afro freak v,i th nine kids who is either too dumb or lazy to hold a job ."
ttJust think how many more pink Gadillacs you 'll see on the road if that law pass ,•s."
There were a few moments of silence as the men drowned their gloom in a few more b ee rs. Walton, the bartender approached with a n m·1pitcher.
"You know fellows, I overheard your discussion," he said, "And I was just thinking. Imagine 1-,hat ·,·:ou l d have ha ppe ned if ·,rn had won t he war and we didn't have to be governed by Commies from Uew York."
ttYea," Randall broke in, "If Lee had beat Heade a t Gett ysburg , the Union probably would have given up and l et us run ourselves."
"Hey, all the n i ggers would still be s lave s, and we wouldn't have any busing or welfare problems," stated Jackson.
"It was all Stuart's fault," chip}Jed in Walton. "If he hadn't got lost be.fore Gettysburg trying to circle the Union army, in an attempt to grab newspaper headlines, h e ·,10uld have let Lee known exa ct ly where i'ieade was. As it turned out, we stumbled rir-.ht into them, and lost our advantage that helped win most of ou r battles."
"The s;ay I learnt it in school, Stuart hacl vague directives to keep directly ahead of our army, but he misinterpreted his orders," said Randall.
"Just t hink, if we could go back in time like that H. G. Wells' movie, we could tell L ee to give strict orders to Stuart to keep close to our army," mumbled Jackson.
"Sure, all we need is a time machine," growled Randall , as he do ·,:ned another beer.
"Pe rhaps I ca n help you," replied a voice with a thick Ger man accent. Randall spun drunkenly around arnl saw a little old man with a clip ped mustache wearing a i/\-/I German corporal's uni.form.
"How?" queried Randall, the beer ·,·ias beginning to get to him, and his head was spinn in g .
"Follow me," was the reply, and Randall .followed the little man goosestepping his way out into the street . 2hey stopJ ed in front of a co sLume shop, and the man opened the door with a .flat p iece of ste e l. He came out shortly with a grey un iform under his arm, and they proceeded do'lm a fe w dark alleys. Randall was now in a drunken stupor and everythin c; looked hazy and wavering t o him. He followed the man into a basement apartment.
"Wait here," the man said, and he went into another room. Randall looked around him and saw a shabbily .furnished roo m with a cl 1air with wi res running all over it. Attached to the chair on one arm was a picture screen.
The man came out with a large envelope. "I am goine; to help y ou ful.fill your wish to go back into time ·and change history," he stated. "I have here a time machine which will transport you back to Ber r yvil le o::i June 22, 1863, where Lee and Stuar t are ca ~pe d. Here is a Confederate colonel's uniform, and these are of ficial orders strictly directing Stuart to stay directly ahead o.f the main Confederate army, and avoid circling the union army . All you have to do is ge t Lee's sta mp on this anc.l t:et it to St ua rt."
"I don't understand." Randall didn't believe any of this, but he was going along with the gag. "What are you getting out of this?"
"Let's say I might have done better 30 years ago if I were facing two weak opposing countries instead of one strong one."
"Sure, I understand," Randall laughed. "What do you want me to do?"
"Just sit in the chair, and press that button. When you get to your destination, hide the chair. l'lhen you want to come back, just follow the same procedure. If you want to see if y ou succeeded in altering the course of history, this screen will flash important newspaper headlines of the time period you're passing through."
Randall continued to laugh as he sat in the chair, buttoning the last button on his uniform. ,/hat a joke, he thought, as he pressed the button, holding the envelope. Suddenly the room went dark, and then flashing lights appeared before his eyes. God, he t hought, I really drank too much, He dose off into a deep slumber.
When he awoke, he was surrounded by trees. Shit, thought Randall, where t lie hell am I? He saw a group of men in grey uniforms pass by. Either I'm dreaming, or the Kraut really wasn't bull-shitting me, Hell, I might as well go along with this.
Clutching the envelope, Randall wandered into a group of soldiers. " ',/here's General Lee's tent?" he queried. "About 500 yards to your right, sir," was the reply.
Randall approached the tent. "I have to see General Lee immediately," he told the guard as he entered the tent. He noticed the gene ral as leep on his cot, but on his makeshift desk he noticed the official stamp. \'/hat a break, he thought, I won't have to convince Lee I'm from the future. Stamping thP. document, he walked out of the tent.
"Lieutenant, I have a job for you, " he ordered, as he approached an officer hurrying by. "Give this envelope to Gene ral St uart immediately."
"Yes, sir," was the reply Hell, that was simple, Randall thought as he made his way back to the chair. This is either some wei rd trip, or the little German wasn't kidding. Randa ll pressed the button, and Lhe lights flashed again. This time he st a yed awake, a nd g lanced at the screen on the arm of the chair.
Lee Destroys Union Army At Gettysburg
July 4, 18 63
August 21, 1863
Li ucoln Sues For Feace, Agr ees To Recognize the Confederate States Of America
;/e ll how about that, Randall thought, I did it! I actually ch ang ed history.
President Lee Frees Slaves, Says Slavery Is Inhumane
January 1, 1869
March 15, 1869
Blacks Refused Entrance Into USA Radical Republicans Accused Of Rae i.al Bias
Blacks Granted Right To Vote
1•,'h.:,t the hell is goi n g on? Randall thought .
April 1, 1890
June 30, 1914
Arizona Joins Olclahoma and New Mexico
With New Statehood ro Confederate States of America
November 20, 1917
USA, CSA Send Combined Force To Europe
May 9, 1945
Germany Sui:-renders to Combined USA-CSA Forces
June 21, 194b Civil Rights Legislation Passed
Shit, Randall thought, this is going too far. Suddenly sparks began to fly out, the chair began to buckle, and Randall blacked out. He a>.·1okeon the floor of the bar. 1111/hat happened?" he questioned. "Some guy brought you in unconscious," explained Jackson, "I didn't even lmow you left."
"Hey, everyone clam up," shouted i/alton, "The President is gonna make his speech on welfare."
Everybody stopped talking as the announcer's voice proclaimed, "And now, the President of the Confederate States of America," as the black face appeared on the screen.
ann g. stewart
Dying
Eucous veins lie stretched As a pregnant spider web O'er the leaf-dry earth.
ann g. ste1vart
Less empty than full are your sweat starved measure ative orb. inch sighs gasps which this negThe halfmark the width of my breath, and its length is as long as your ev a porating laugh-
jeff crossan
Thy Qembers shall not be notionless, they shall not rot ••• the y shall not fall into decay ... the eye shall not
decay ••• the form of the face shall not disappear ••
The egyptian Book of the Dead
Blind J<'aith
Prophet of the inevitable ••• removed from your aristo cr atic sepu lcher, resurrected in a museum a Mecca where famished fingerprints decorate the transparent coffin, a breadbox-paradox to believers, who antenna-led like blind bugs swarm to spoiled food. Does the apple-core outshine the apple? You were their f ood then too but who fed you god? or believed that death's black blanket could hold you motionless as a lifeless statue The temple of your spirit unable to rise to the call of the last tru mp.
Harbinger steve snyder
Thursday morning stoplight
Black caddy next to my sleepy blue bug fhere's a f at man inside picking his nose And my car radio goes on and on Oh I wish I was someplace else
Last night I fell asleep at my desk. Somebody in the room--my room-started to whistle a tune that I could not remember, and I woke up.
you ever seen one of thos e really old movies with John Garfield? plays a guy who seems ready to explode over anything. Have He always When t his guy smiles he seems pissed off. Even when he smiles. I remember an old movie about anti-semitism--Gentlemen's Agreement--he was in it. One scene--this drunken guy in a bar calls Garfield a sheenie or a dirty, kinky haired kike or something . Then Garfield just blows up, and hits this drunk in the face with all this cussing and screa ming and broken glass .••
My room was totally black save this slow winking of small light in one of the four corners. John Garfield was sitting in my easy chair smoking a cigarette. He smiled his high strung smile--his movie smile--and took a tug of cigarette smoke.
"Have you ever stole n anything, Steve?" He exhaled his smoke. ,,ell. I knew it c·ias a dream or, I guess, a dream inside another so I just le aned back in my desk cliair an:1 smiled--trying to be good n ;itured to an illusion.
"You know , v,hen you stea l something, you should alwa_,;s dress in a long black overcoat--especially for the small things that are stolen." And then he laughed, I guess, at his own words, and sr:iiled at the ceilin g. "I should tell you that to walk in this overcoat the right ,:ay means you should always hang your head some--as if you feel great pain. Can you understand son? Especial ly in th e winter v,hen its very cold--a fine time to feel some pain.
Oh don't smile son, don't you smile. rlai t a while and live the life of a heavy. Don't smile so easy boy. Don't take things so smooth and slow. Gather up some hate and store a·,:ay your fear."
He winked and stood up. So did I, and we shook hands trying to break one another's fingers as my father would have done •;1hen he was young ••• like me.
"Goocl grip," he smiled, and walked through the door. After he had left 1 felt foolish and a little insane, because I had been kind to an illusion. Store away your fear--he said that. I wish I was someplace else.
A slow ride dave larson
From the moon, a g low of conscience Streams a tender truthful state, To ponder the untimely fate, And ;, eep unkeepable mares.
Alas the doom of earthly man Creeps to his bed d ide, Strikes li ke a vulture swooping, Makes death a long slow ride.
52 Pickup shelby seitz
Cut, dealt, and laid--a trick played vii th shark shuffled finesse. Your trump, and my usual yes.
Pollution dave larson
To a worth y man of ta s tes, The secret will reveal Doom, destruction, and fear The extolling pa in of was tes.
·.'/hen the air is blocked from man And the '.:ater reeks of slime in The alleys. St reet s overrun by rats, dith of course gas masks.
Pollution, detergents washing Our poor brains. , e think. Time is in our favor, but •. It is death who will savor.
Streets of Barcelona dave larson
The morning after the night before Memories reveal what went on, Behind closed doors with pink whores. The state of tranquility of entering in Her calloused legs with honeypot smell. Slimy juice that glands secrete, Against old morality, a symbol of guilt, I quickly drowned in drunken stupor.
ann g stewart
You, me, me, You
Ours unravel, and You don't mine Until my i blinks ba ck the tiers of status, we Become I and You're in. ,,vha t a waste to Fetus; weave no life.
joe webb
I can dr a w for you the sound of rain falling on the exercise yard. I know the echo of trapped footsteps. I am able to recognize my heartbea~ from the noise of any other. I cannot remember the sound of my name. lt is crowded here, cell after cell, row after row. I am lonely.
I was important for one day. fhat much I keep hidden. That is mine. I remember.
They all speak to me. Three o'clock, time for the tri p to Highs. I make it every day this tiwe of year at three, ri ght when the sun is hottest and the ice cre am tastes best. Gre a t trip, from the ban k to the ice cream.
I fasten my coat, as a b ank er should, owning half the t01-m. I hope that kid over there doesn't think I'm loafing. There, that fro ·.m will fix him. He knows, he knows, I'm the banker.
Everyday I come in here. "Ice crea m for my sister" That old waitress won't think I eat it all myself. That guy was behind me, breaking in line like that. Jamn him. Always pushy people.
"Thank you ma'am."
Oh, my sho·,1 is on TV. Dragnet. This shop is a good sta:rnout joint. Brinkly's Repair shop. Brinkly is staring at me. Let hi ,n. Hope he doesn't recognize me. Pull my hat down a little, .l. Jcnow, look like I'm waiting for the bus. I can look like I'm watching TV in the shop window and keep my eye on the Highs store at the same time, just by watching the reflection in the window. A good cop, that's me, .a nd when they bust up the payroll Friday at Highs , I'll be .ri gh t here watching their move.
He stands there, watching the program, dressed in an old brown suit, with yello•,1 shirt, unkempt hair, white socks falling into tennis shoes. On one hand he wears a huge ring; his hands are constantly in motion, pulJing at his belt, combing the greasy hair into a ducktail.
4 o'clock. Time to report in.
"Any luck with a job Mick?"
"Naw Mom, tried everywhere." On the telephone ag a in, the bitch. How are you supposed to just walk in and say "Hey bt.<ddy, give me a job.• 'rhat' s fucking ridiculous.
The old man. ;,hat a jerk.
He spied the jumprope, his sister's, lying on the table. "No dice. No fucking co-ordination.•
"Mick, dinner is ready."
"What is it.•
"Hamburger.•
"Shit. II
6 o'clock news. a knife and pow. I feel the trembling. That murderer is cool. I've got an old hunting knife.
"Where are you going Mick?"
Just take
"Out." He looked hard at the football in the bac kyar d; stooped and pi -eked it up. Too low, not like the old high school days. Five touchdowns in one game. "Nerkle back, no one open, he runs with it; to the ten, twenty, looks like he's going ..•
He played out the rest of the g2cme, running, tac k ling, thro•.,;ing; all by himself. Alone. The knife reminded him of the news, and he moved into the street.
9 o'clock. Patrolman Collins here sir. ,'le've cau gh t the knife. The shrink is questioning him.
"Did you kill Er. Johnson?"
"I don't know."
"are you a ki l ler?"
"I am an artist. But I was one for a little while."
Father. He stays home now more than before ••• before ·,1hen I ·,:as young. Very young is such a soft, ins ,1lated time, like no other. ;;;very one's child is a millionaire. ~•at her, I hardly knew. lle was a salesman, gone from home so much. We lived, I suppose, rather strangely. It is most hard to be oneself'--to be what you are. lt is much easier to be a movie star. Thinking back on childhood, that is much like being a movie star. I remember too well. I remember the house. We lived on Lartham 3treet, between two red stoplights. The big white house on one side, tl,e big white hou se on the
other side, the church across the street. The street ran downhill in a slow grade, ;:,olite, solemn, quiet. We lived at the bottom. The old Dodge was in the back yard. I used to go there to hide fro a, mama and look at the girls in the Sears and Roebuck catalogue, and play with myself. That was very wicked. The front porch had three columns, old and split everyone. I walked from end of the porch to the other, passing these columns, day after day, waiting for Father to come home. He did not come very often.
Mama I love. "My baby," she called me. 'lie would sit together in the back room, dark and comfortable and play monopoly until, very late at night, I would fall asleep. I loved the f 3lling asleep. I knew mama, so poor and lonely, would carry me, in a dream, to her room, and there I would stay, so weary and satisfied, til dawn.
I did not play outside too much. Mama was a good companion. Ted was my other friend. Ted was the old fellow v;ho lived next door. Leaving mama I would go to him. "Today Fritz, you begin to learrt how to live." That is what he always said. I never knew who Fritz was. Ted ,,:as my teacher. '.ie played r.iany games and sometimes were naughty. Ted liked poker. '!le played it at his house, and the loser of each hand would have to take off some of his clothes. By the end of the game we v:ould run around the nouse naked, laughin e; and playin g It was fun.
At the age of eight, I began going to church, sitting between Mama and Father, or as was more often the case, when J<'ather 1,as not there, between Ted and Mama. I was small for my a g e, and the other children in my school were always larger than me, even though I had not started to school until seven a nd had failed the first grade. I did not like them much. They would go dovmtown in gangs, jostling each ot .~er, a cting very big. It was a disgrace for the others to be seen without new tennis shoes, and Ted said they drove around "in their big cars s howing us their aristocratic noses." I've seen them, driving their own Cadillac: -; to play tennis on ','iednesday afternoons like they're still kids. I was fortunate enough not to fall in with them. They are very snooty. I suppose they have to ask permission to lay their \Vives.
They are all "just too polite, old boy," for me,
So I grev1 up with Ted and Nama. Goi ng to church, which I loved. Mama's friends would come, dre s sing in white blouses, with very tight tops, ,,hich showed off their big breasts. I ,10uld tnink of them all during the sermon, and dream of how they would come and play monopoly with Mama and me, and t a ke me home with them. But when they would come to see her, I v1ould sit in r,Iama' s lap, because I have always been shy; besides, I love /.lama too much to leave her alone.
Ted moved away to the other side of town v1hen I began hi;_;h school. As a student I did not excel, nor try. I wasn't well liked by the teachers. The kids here \·1ere worse than the kids on Lortham citreet; they made the trembling begin. It made my voice shake and everyti1.ing around me jump. It is as if you are watching TV and suddenly the whole picture begins to bounce up and down and the sound cut on and off. You become dizzy from it. I have always had a problem with my senses. They are too sharp. I can remember once when I was walking to Highs hearing a thump, thump, as I walked. I thought it wa s :r.y hip jolting from the shock of my feet hitting the ground, but when I looked over my shoulder it was a boy bouncing a basketball. My senses have become even sharper since I \'/as young, so at times the unreal seems very close to the real.
Inertia is a strange thing. You know, t hat is •,vhat keeps a ba ll from rolling or makes it want to keep moving after put into motion. It has affected me. I have never rolled in the direction of most ev e ryone else. Some kids can go onto a basketball court and though they are smaller, run roughshod over other, perhaps larger, kids. :rhey do as they want, acting as if they own the place, even though they are no better at the game. That sort of thing starts young. I know a family, the Johnsons, 1vho grew up with the inertia behind them. They own the town, and 1,hen Jack Johnson wanted to play basketball, he was treated as Mr. Johnson by the men at the courts, who knew that Jack's father paid their salary. I never had inertia in my favor.
It took me a long time to recover from my childhood. Jack Johnson and his crowd never recov e red from theirs. They are still pushy people. But sometimes, when Jack comes to co l lect the rent at Dan's Bar, he sees me, and my friends. You can tell he doesn't feel so c oo l ar ound us. Jack Johnson couldn't make it with us.
Mama made me go to the f irst dance. Hi ldred Cutchins. Ny first and last date. Typical Ame rican date, her wanting marriage and me, all dr e ssed up, wondering how to screw her eyes out. ,ve •,·1ent to the dance, but while l ·.·:as going to get her some ;iuncr1 Don !lilson, one of Johnson's friends, sat down beside her. He wore white shoes and a madras belt, and he lau ghed at my blue suit. Mildred stayed with Wilson the rest of the niGht.
That was the dance out of first prize. ing about it
night the dream started. I had made a jack'o lantern for the cardboard, hand painted and frilled with crepe paper. It won That night I knew I was going to be a gre a t a rtist, and thinkmade the tremblin g stoi,.
After t-:ama drop ;:,ed l•:ildred off I went to Ted's house to stay. That was a fun night. Ted saw I ~ms upset about }1ildred, and explained about g irls to me, and how to get nlong Hitltout. "Today , Fritz, you le a rn how to live." That is what he said. He gave rne some liquor, Scotch it 1•1as, and I go t drunk for the first time. That night •.ve went to bed together and Ted said he loved me.
The dream is beautiful. Like being asleep with Mama. In it the girls notice me when I come in the room. '.rhey say, "There's the painter." Always the same girls and the same room; those words. That is my future.
I've been buildin g on the dream since. The imagination of the artist. I am able, you s e e, to perceive more vividly tha n others. Painting as I see; painting with the four senses. I will be famous.
My imagination can make thine;s see!!! very real. And that is how I stopped the tre mbling. One day in gum, ·we were playing softball, and I struck out as I knew I would. ,1hen I sat back down on the benc h they lau ghed. Then I thought about Nickey hantle, and, for a moment, I was Viickey Mantle. And the trembling stop p ed.
I've used that trick more since then. I call it picturing out.
Ted introduced me to his friends at Dan's Bar. :red loves me. At night, when I stay at his place, it doesn't bother me. I don't like it like he does, but he is my friend. :rhe others at the bar don't bother me. That's why I like it there. Girls make me jumpy. Sometimes, especially when I go by the playground at the elementary school, I want them.
Jack Johnson called me a queer until he g ot married, became a liberal councilman, and bought Dan's Ba~.
So it was only during the day that I had to fight the trembling. At night, at the bar, it never came. The bar is dark and quiet, and there I'm alone, with Ted, and good friends.
Of course for a while, this made the days even worse. The pushy people. I hate to ask the man at the filling station to check the air in my tires. They would say "How much" and I wouldn't knm~. But when I pictured out, it wasn't so bad.
I began picturing out more. J!'or small things, I would become a filling station m·mer if I wanted the air checked, or a department store owner if I had to try on clothes. 1'/hen it was really bad, and the trer.ibling got close, I would think of the dream.
I made plans for my first painting. It is a painting of a man, sitting in a beautiful car, outside of the church across from my old house. He is dressed in a white summer suit, with gloves, and he is go i ng to be smiling at a girl, dressed in a wedding trousseau, climbing into the car with him. On his face is painted satisfaction, happiness, pride. The girl's face is averted away from the man, toward the viewer. She is looking at the tires on the car. They are, all four of them, flat. She is very angry, although the man doesn't realize it, or know the tires are flat. And in her anger you see what she is really like, ugly and petty. I call i.t "Man and Life." I've not painted it yet. I've often begun.
Drifting. The word has a peaceful sound. I've drifted from Ted's to home, to Dan's bar; for eleven years. Always afraid of the trembling; the trembling like a cat after a piece of cotton, sweeping around the corner, le a ping at the doorways ... I've know that if the trembling came again, broke through the knowledge that I ar1 a great artist; then I would be gone.
Jack Johnson was at the Bar with his fat little son. And his son said I looked like a queer, just loud enough for me to hear. For a moment I was a great artist, looking at Jack Johnson and laughing. Then I v1as a killer. Then I was a killer, with a hunting knife. Then the trembling.
I told them, when they asked if I was a killer, that I didn't know. I don't know who I am. Ted hasn't been to see me. I'm lonely.
