CAMBODIAN NEW YEAR, 1982

My wife seasoned our stew
with fish water, cat lemon,
and French garlic.
Don't eat it
with the crusty bread
she will serve you
for the holiday,
but with the steamed rice
that will make you strong.

Now that I'm limping,
the man who walks bent over
waves hello to me.

Long after her death,
a jar of her sweet relish.
A sour old woman.

NEW YORK, EAST ON I-90


From the barren wood
blue shadows on the white snow
reach for the bright road.

The road curved away
from that which had lain ahead
in the predawn light:

fog heavy on a brown field,
a lake now blue in the sun.


Alt:

The road curved away
from that which had lain ahead
in the dim morning:

low fog on a dry brown field,
gray water then, a sun-blue lake.

NIXON'S RESIGNATION AND THE END OF THE 60's

Today is the 40th anniversary of Nixon's resignation. And, for me at least, the 40th anniversary of the end of the 60's as well. That evening, a few friends and I were going to check out a new music and dance place in Perrysburg. When we picked up the last person, Nixon was on TV resigning, so we stayed and watched that strange and unprecedented event before we took off. The scene at the club was just as surreal: There was no live band, just horrible recorded music with a drummer to emphasize the beat and make the songs more danceable. No one was in cut-offs, no one in a granny dress, no one in a fancy flowered shirt and torn jeans, no one in expensive leather pants and a work shirt. The guys were wearing suits(aargh!) with open-collared shirts and heavy chains and pendants. And out on the dance floor, people appeared to be actually trying to do particular dances, instead of just flopping around energetically like we always did at the Agora. The decade that began with Kennedy's assassination ended suddenly with both relief and unexpected cultural alienation.

UNIVERSAL SOLDIER

If you're going to be going over the top and charging into no-mans land anyway, I suppose it's better for you if you go shouting "Allahu Akbar!" or "For the Cross!" than mumbling "Fuck me." But the question is what's going to get you going over the top in the first place.