Summer 1996 Edition Selections
by William Matthews
Let’s skip those undertakers love, like pass
away and join the majority.
Likewise let’s spurn the tittery genteel,
like make water, or ladies of the night.
Why make water and not tinkle?
I like the uric whiff of Genesis
by Robert Olen Butler
My friend Eva. She came up to me by the open coffin and she was smelling of lavender. She tried to make some lavender cookies once, its being her favorite smell outside of the kitchen. Lavender is in the mint family, after all, and I admire her ’w, thinking back, for trying that. She couldn’t possibly have had a real hope that lavender cookies would please her family. Or maybe she could. Still, her husband Wolf threw them across the room. She blamed herself.
by Charles Simic
“Your poems are just crazy images strung arbitrarily together,” my pals complained, and I’d argue back: “Haven’t you heard about surrealism and free association?” Bob Burleigh, my best friend, had a degree in English from the University of Chicago and possessed all the critical tools to do a close analysis of any poem. His verdict was: “Your poems don’t mean anything.”
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