Last Bender

Mayakovsky led me naturally back to Whitman. I remember well being astonished by Whitman in high school. Here was a man in the mid 19th century who saw it all, saw everything. But over the years he became an encrusted classic. Every now and then I would pick up Whitman and sometimes he’d strike lightning, [...]

CHAPTER FOUR Monozone was a quiet place at seven in the morning. I sat in my cubicle thinking, Stronghole is not a bad man. Anyone’d want to work with him. He had a good reputation. And that was amazing in an outfit like this. We sometimes pissed side by side or shared an elevator. Two [...]

 Outtakes           the rain it’s bouncing off the glass starting to run to gutters       garbage hesitates then budges before sliding on asphalt into twigs and twilight               the clash of laughter I don’t understand why Bubba knows the date and I don’t [...]

Wi The Haill Voice   25 poems by Vladimir Mayakovsky translated into Scots with a glossary by Edwin Morgan Carcanet Press 1972   After writing about O’Hara I became intrigued by poets who influenced him and started to read a little Mayakovsky. This reading grew into another post, which I’m still working on. Part of [...]

CHAPTER THREE               I slept most the day as best I could. For supper I fried up ham and cheese on rye in margarine till the crust was brown and crunchy, and drank an orange pop. Then I met my best friend Linda and her husband Mac at The Glory Hole. Linda and I [...]

Digging in a Pot I imagine you bald digging in a pot with a spoon Sunlight between fingers cells fight to fatten the cloth Remains pile up books in folds of sheets and gowns Too small to wear the wasted sack I long ago first tasted Evening like a peel of bitter orange the river’s [...]

The Laughing God Last night Maja and I watched McCain and Obama speak at the Columbia University forum on public service. We responded as predicted, scorning McCain’s platitudes and marveling at Obama’s intelligence. One telling difference between the two (as if any sane person needed any evidence of their differences) was in their responses to [...]

CHAPTER TWO             I drove through the security gates of Monozone’s underground garage and into the orange gelatin concrete of Bartholin Plaza. A squat, liver colored sun struggled against the herringbone bay. Garbage trucks trundled down the block.             The road still bore traces of a double yellow line but no one paid it any [...]

Spinning in Bed   I forgot and ran beneath the branches blowing fog like a cow   styrofoam flowers and strobe light christmas houses damp paper pumpkins   forgot I forgot and puzzled over fulcrums of flying and falling   can’t remember the why the names got lost in the how   forgot flying and [...]

              THE LAST BENDER   By Buzz Callaway       Even damnation is poisoned with rainbow. Leonard Cohen, The Old Revolution     CHAPTER ONE Blood. Never have I seen so much blood. It was on the ceiling in big raggedy ovals and splashed on the walls. It formed a vinyl slick across [...]