Last Bender

Manerly Margery Mylk and Ale
Ay, beshrewe yow! Be my fay
This wanton clarkis be nyse allway.
Avent, avent, my popagay!
“What, will ye do nothing but play”
Tully, valy, strawe, let be I say!
Gup, Cristian Clowte, gup, Jak of the Vale,
With manerly Margery Mylk and Ale.
“Be Gadm nye be a praty pode
And I love you an hole cart lode.”
Strawe, […]

CHAPTER ELEVEN
            On the way home I drank a half gallon of warm tonic water and twisted through the dial in search of something besides cooking shows. It took that and two aspirin dissolved beneath the torrents of bubbly drink to go over Clara Turback. She made some sort of a twisted sense. What seemed […]

Lang Po and its descendents are the poetic equivalent of the Progressive, Jazz/Rock fusion music of the 1970’s. They are the Emerson Lake and Palmer of the poetry world. The Mahuvishnu Orchestra of the poetry world. The Yes, Genesis and Gentle Giant of the poetry world. The Strawbs of the poetry world. The Chick Correa […]

Evil
While the red-stained mouths of machine guns ring
Across the infinite expanse of day;
While red or green, before their posturing king,
The massed battalions break and melt away;
And while a monstrous frenzy runs a course
that makes of a thousand men a smoking pile–
Poor fools!–dead, in summer, in the grass,
On Nature’s breast, who meant these men to smile;
There […]

CHAPTER TEN
            Despite vigorous protest I left Linda a C note to pay my part of the check and drove uptown to twist Clara Turback’s arm. For the second time that day I found myself budging along with the creeps, the shysters, and the shaved freaks who push numbers and little guys around for kicks. […]

This is the apocalyptic, visionary Whitman, the Whitman who is akin to Rimbaud’s Illuminations. Here, in a single stanza he goes from a vision of ice to a vision of an unearthly city, utterly destroyed. This was before the civil war. He seems to have ascended to a Hurqulayan Interzone. Or else he fell asleep […]

CHAPTER NINE
            “I’d like to suck his cock,” she said, looking very fem in her lowcut, black dress, drop earrings, and gold necklace. “Look at those ass cheeks. Shit, they show right through.”   She kicked off her burgundy suede pumps. “I wonder what his fingers look like.”   She stretched and wiggled her toes, coral tipped […]

The plotte thickens
she is a snatch purser
or a pursed snatch
is a plotte thickened

I’ve just finished one of the greatest novels written in the English language. It is difficult to do more that put down a few quotes, first by the Author, John Williams, and then from the novel, Stoner. Few people have read Stoner; nearly all who do say what I just did. Williams was born in […]

 
CHAPTER EIGHT
 
Before going to lunch with Linda I stopped in at the office to chew things over with the guys. No one chews a bone better than a room full of rum faced, tobacco stained dicks.
            The security section is a cinder block tank about four thousand feet square, with a tan vinyl floor, acoustic […]