yea

The anorexic liked to visit the farmers’ market to palpate the produce and test herself in a public place.

The young man with a winestain crescent moon birth mark sat in the meadow reading Annie Dillard and tried to channel the recondite streams of thought that gurgled through his head. Then a four wheeling enthusiast ran over him.

The puke on the wall was there before the party started. The kids don’t party like they used to.

Dyslexic seeks dog to take the odium out of sodium.


Give me the coarse and rank stuff that is headed down a crack that leads to nowhere. Give me the illiterate and the FAS-addled, the stutterers and the twitchers, those who couldn't bring their minds to do what their hearts cry out for. Give me the lippy little bastards who puff out their chests and engage in the staredowns, who hate school but at least it's safe and you get two free meals, right? Give me the ones who stare through the priest when he attempts to make a correction and has to skip to the catechism because he gets no response. I wish I could make clear how badly I would like them to know I approve of the effort, if not always the result, approve of the writhing discontent and insurrectionary apathy, if not the ultimate sad end it achieves.

Give me the Old Testament prophets and the dithyrambic ramblings of long lines, the deep breath muse fuckings and voice raisings of an Isaiah or a Walt. Prophecy not being powerful because it tells us what the future will look like but because it oh so artfully explicates how destitute the present appears.

Grant me the the wisdom to let erosion do its thing and so on, or whatever.