Our bravest contributors have shared with us some of their more earnest efforts from the misty past. Scary Bush should not be reviewed while in the process of drinking liquids, and the reader assumes all risk.
Grant Gerald Miller
My Heart is Electrical
My heart is electrical.
See the wires flare
bulb glow vivid, alive
at your touch.
When you are gone,
the room stares at
me sternly demanding
shade, so I light up
till I burn out.
The Powder Wig Texan Rides his Theocrasteed
One Hot Night (first page)
Three men came into Captain Riga's Tavern talking excitedly and wiping sweat from their foreheads.
'Well I sure as hell didn't see anything," said the first one, who was tall, broad-shouldered and about forty-five years old.
"But Bud, I tell ya I seen him-- I seen im with my own eyes!"
"Lemme smell your breath," said Bud.
"I ain't drunk goddamn it! Ask Leo, he seen him too."
"That right Leo?"
"Yup," said the small and wrinkled old man who followed them.
"All right, let's just sit down and have a drink, it'll settle your nerves, Hank."
"I don't need to be settlin my nerves, I need to be takin care of this situation, damn it. With Smiley outta town the deputy is in charge-- you know that, Bud."
"Yeah, yeah, just sit down Wyatt."
The three men sat down and Adam Nicklaus watched from four stools away.
"What'll ya have?" asked Rigo from behind the bar.
"Scotch," said Bud.
"Bourbon," said Hank, his bulbous belly pressed against the bar rail.
"Yup, me too," said Leo.
Rigo set three tumblers down, got the two bottles, and started to pour.
"Just leave em," said Bud.
the hilda poem
Eleanor Levine (1994)
when hilda was 23 years old
she asked her mother for a copy of henry miller
her mother burned the book
her sister tillie drove a horse into the wilderness
hilda rebelled by marrying jack
who had his kidney removed at 77
jack married hilda
hated henry miller
hilda rebelled against her literary tastes
after her mother burned them.
No One Tells the Truth Anymore
There are roads here that lead to cliffs
and people know things they will never share,
even if threatened at gun point.
Someone told me white is no longer a color,
but how about black?
I know what became of Pluto,
stripped of its rank after so many flat-lined years.
I can't be bothered by any of that.
I'm busy crushing daisies,
counting the creases in my skin,
jailhouse hash marks of the days
Tell Me, Sequoia
i don't choose to involve