WRITING II


I don't know exactly

is it properly "mum"

all around the Texas panhandle the storms give their lectures

The blue-finned tuna speaks from its diaphragm

I hoarded my Friday afternoons

Write and then drink

I'd get in the freight elevator

A boy holding in a bag a human leg

it would bump into the world like a tuning bell

I wanted a lot of comp time

talk about being excited

James Schuyler on eggs with a side of hash browns . . .

then football season would end