INSIDE THIS ISSUE:
Chris Lord
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WAY BACK WHEN I remember when you were Marilyn Monroe and I was John Wayne, back in our glory days-- when everything still lies out ahead of us, when avenues were crystal and the sky was still this astonishing blue, when we were young and callow and so very proud of it, back when there were long, tired days out on the prairie, golden waves that went sweeping up and over the slope of all the tall hills, when you were my true love: in the snowstorm, all through the cold spring, on days when the rivers froze all around us, the waterfalls carving down into frozen curtains, when we would go inside and warm our tired bodies down in front of the fireplace, that old flag waving out behind the house while we made love, and do you remember when the President was a god-damn good man? when America was the place to be? but now a million drums callout up in the dark out on the dunes, church bells as they go ringing out all across America... everyone trying to sing just like they did (way back when) like it was their wedding day, just like we once did...back when you were Marilyn Monroe and I was John Wayne. THE NEW ESSENCE And I held on to something strong as the bombs hit, London disappearing, New York as she went falling, one after another the cities dying while we all watch, essence in the roots breaking, glass water lilies on fire, no name for what this feels like (both yesterday and tomorrow), her ghost at every doorknob, my soul around every corner. I remember her voice at the edge of dark, out across the fields--way out before the moon, she said: be careful where you go! all this chest deep in forgetfulness, and you could hear the reeds and the tones of gold in her voice, her smile like drops of rain on a small child's face. Jeanpaul Ferro, Providence, Rhode Island |
Ann
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