





































;rowd and back to the stage while 
1ch or wink at a patron. Working 
Ler money for the night, working 
Then the music begins to take off 
v notes, Rose stops in a theatrical 
es her arms out as though she is 
to the air above our heads. 
:aken a single shot. My Minolta is 
nd shoot. Later, when I am alone 
ie into being. Rose's chin is raised 
an enormous smile on her face. 

:l the edges of multiple bills spill 
1dent against the darkness of the 
. In the moment, the photograph 
ath the flawless makeup. Rose has 
nee is cheering for a little boy she 
rsfunction and spent much of his 
The audience senses this tonight 

Glint Stamatouicb 

&a.stern ~pit 
i. 

I'm sore on you, babe, sores on your back some, 
And to feel that chicken spine move, shiver; 
It is enough outta you, hush, Hume, hum, 
Here comes force to glove its gripped deliver, 
How stupid is a reptile de-functioned, 
Exhausted knowledge gonna knead, gonna 
Drool sum, and scare the girls away (junk some 
Anyway), we'll stay, girl-say, you hanga' 
Louise, we've gotta getta ol' John-boy's-
He's got completion in the universe 
And we need this answer, babe, through the noise­
Delved in the void, dead, spent, black in the purse; 
The car crashed head first before John-boy's joint; 
No remains, development, or sharp point. 

ii. 
So, off made some plate 
went Vincent, his dear Catherine,­
shut up the ass-good, too, 
all colours bright, say, 
John boy took the ghost's green 
clay and found essential 
sugars to gust up a silver 
son's dirty hair, 

shorn and open, his eyes shot 
in the clear castle sky, 
let's go to the cave, boys, 
lets' leave the girls a 
mutiny and we'll find 

a way; 
bellies full of bubbling 
green bile, got off foot 
loosely and found the 
first floor of the yard-
couple a yeast and ferms later 
and the small boy is done, 
say, we had the babe-lass, 
pigeon-toed, take him-she took 

93 



him well; now, then, down 
the spiraled, bleak, black 
metal, down the kids 
hiccuping awfully, down 

the way; 
dark now, second, shitting 
and romanticizing John boy's 
self to sleep, left burned in the 
throat the fire of bottles 
that nearly broke in snarls­
the wench a cur, ha, o, 
with breasts far too 
small, she found some 
English drab and hummed 
sum American tune, but, 
say, she was hot and red, boy, 
asking for our bottle, and, hm, 
Vincent pleading to have 
not carried her nation's ghost­
where she took no an answer; 
before the babes in the 
basement that bartered 
for tobacco, too young, 
far too young, but found 

someway; 
kids fingering themselves in 
booths blotted out of slurred, 
peripheral sight, 

light outside by the bright 
American glow, now just, ha, 
Vincent and John boy and 

a sore inclination 
for full lungs, up by 
Prazskj brad, wat, turned the 
corner for the cobble and 
found a murked room, 
Japanese goblins peering out 
through the cracks, o, of consciousness 
hoisted up by Vincent's cat-in-wall, 

94 

came close, comically, through bar! 
and on porcelain-Chinese-Ameri1 
porcelain-the girls, the two, 
laughing, poking fun, at the whole, 
the whole while, 
singing stupid American pop, 
soda rotting the hind teeth, ha, 
and colours came bearing 
smell and touch; the 

letters smack some sense 
hard and mean and cold 
when the stones broke the 
wet wasteland and stairs 
that led to warmth cradled 
babies that fell under dream 
some hours early, care 
and huff and kiss each 
other in bright rooms, Vince led 

that way; 
but the old-man-bag who 
outwardly stood in protest 
of the open restaurant (never 
feeding, mind him, those mouths 
of pork and beef and goulash), 
Es no restaurante, he sez, 'panish? 
'talian? Surely-
Breathing hard and slow; sheets 
heavy and hot, in 

noway; 
say, o, this a last hurrah! 
running, unclad, shared, and fat 
to the yup's sink to 
spit-up and laugh and 
talk and, god, trip-

found that spit-up 
in the mouth of the 
sleeping where the 
sisters follow 

the boys' 
night along 

iii. 
English babes have mouths that yaw1 



came close, comically, through bars 
and on porcelain-Chinese-American 
porcelain-the girls, the two, 
laughing, poking fun, at the whole, 
the whole while, 
singing stupid American pop, 
soda rotting the hind teeth, ha, 
and colours came bearing 
smell and touch; the 

letters smack some sense 
hard and mean and cold 
when the stones broke the 
wet wasteland and stairs 
that led to warmth cradled 
babies that fell under dream 
some hours early, care 
and huff and kiss each 
other in bright rooms, Vince led 

that way; 
but the old-man-bag who 
outwardly stood in protest 
of the open restaurant (never 
feeding, mind him, those mouths 
of pork and beef and goulash), 
Es no restaurante, he sez, 'panish? 
'talian? Surely-
Breathing hard and slow; sheets 
heavy and hot, in 

noway; 
say, o, this a last hurrah! 
running, unclad, shared, and fat 
to the yup's sink to 
spit-up and laugh and 
talk and, god, trip-

found that spit-up 
in the mouth of the 
sleeping where the 
sisters follow 

the boys' 
night along 

iii. 
English babes have mouths that yawn, 

95 



come to dance before moon beam, native 
to the rooted shoe, the old yups come here 
to die-
sand that grits between piers on cold-sore 
construction; spotted spiders 
beneath each girder still 
in part of the quick light, 

boys' feet smaller than their northern dates, 
mar the Turks, see, 
that see the gray hair more than 

their brothers see their mothers, 
and squint-eyed young man found his, 
in the American brew, (bastard, call him) 

her lips fat from clasp, 
sour, little plum, to 
the free sprawled chandeliers that 
'loominate softly children in the height, 
crooked teeth and slighted sight-

the expanded smiles come 
from landed, light-toed, sweet legs, 
but the dreams of the German pilot 

stay still apart; 
he filed aimlessly into cobblestone, barraged 
in pattern near golden raised 
stair-cased homes, a fountain 
robbed stately by eastern 
thieves with string and weight­
their get-up broke hands when the 
longer touched the guards' change-

St. Vitis and his cock saw Honey 
through her dress, maybe blue, 
borrowed a note from the shallows of 
proper French, you are pretty, petty 
silk, the cock sit proper and right, 
there it comes! 

but too late, disappeared under 
the oak steps clogged in cobble, 
beat in shade, gone where rifles of 
goats and mortars laid 

96 

.Qian Garuin 

~ometijillJl of tije Lonel 
<after liotel .lloom b.9 «bwarb lioJ 

This new melancholy tastes 
of the bitter figs we had 
slathered in honey 
to drown their tough texture 
to force them to be sweet 
the way the August sun 
smothered me following 
the burial. 
I only knew her 
through grainy photographs 
Danny carried on pilgrimages 
back to Tiffin. 
I never cared enough 
to hate her diamond ring. 
I never thought of her breathing. 
And now Danny's spirited me 
away; here 
where they were and loved, 
where they conceived a newborn so 

Perhaps it was an apology; 
perhaps it was unnecessary 
that eventually I dressed 
and left. 
The truth refused 
coercion. 
The page obstinately 
remained blank on her pillow 
the way it silently-
in brilliance-
was over. 


