bob the bum's christmas

bob was a bum his brain was in a constant hum from drinking whiskey wine and gin o what a state they left him in he was in for the long haul and did stumble trip and fall from tijuana to bangor maine landing on sidewalks feeling no pain no barroom light was e'er so dim as not to shine through fog to him and he would crawl on hands and knees through their doorways, if need be up to the rail he would slink hoping some kind stranger would buy him a drink but since the truth can not be hid hardly anyone ever did so, if the tale can be believed bob found himself on christmas eve in west new york - or was it hackensack? looking up at snowflakes as he lay on his back and every flake was a memory of all that he had hoped to be and as they piled up on his face he thought he heard a far off trace of a happy song of long ago through the more rapidly falling snow and then amidst the wintry whirl he spied the face of a little girl the little match girl - no surprise and then before his wondering eyes the little drummer boy appeared then st peter with his long white beard the ghostly trio cleared their throats st peter and the girl struck notes on harps that they had brought along - the three began to sing a song "since this christmas may be your last let us sing of good times past before the crackling family fire before your straits were not so dire when end of year brought promise bright and happy children's pure delight at presents purchased with honest wages you laughed at winter's furious rages - " the song went on, the words grew faint but on the wind he heard the plaint of a little girl at a tavern door crying "daddy, daddy, please no more come home before you spend all your pay" yes, that was the song of yesterday now he was tired - oh so tired - beneath the snow the bum expired

pals, part 3: dangerous

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night turned to dawn the world moved on on the details i will not dwell but evening finally fell i told my brain, don't start but with a palpitating heart i made my way back to ray's cafe wondering what i would say for i was trembling with fear that jane would not be there but if the truth i could tell i was also afraid of the strange spell she had cast on my fevered brain that i could not explain and i told myself i believed i would actually be relieved if she did not even show and then i could safely go back to the warm embrace of the life i had learned to face life just goes on and on another night, another dawn what is wrong with that anyway? that would be hard to say now jane had entered the mixture and changed the whole picture could i ever go back again to the way i had always been? in my brain i heard a roar my steps brought me closer to the door i pushed it open with a force of will and then everything grew still that is, in my own perception to everyone else, without exception nothing in the room, or the world, had changed everything was still the same again, henry was not there but seated in "his" chair as if she had every right to be was my woman of mystery she was looking down at the table as though she were not able to unravel some mysterious rune or hear some forgotten tune i approached with some hesitation and fearful trepidation she suddenly raised her head "oh, there you are," she said as if it were the most natural thing my presence to her to bring i steadied myself on the table and responded as well as i was able "i will only be a minute" i brought back a glass with liquor in it what could be more civilized? a hurricane whirled behind my eyes "as i was saying", she resumed and started in on what i would soon recognize as her obsessions which branched off in many directions like henry she was a fund of knowledge perhaps not learned in any college of wide repute - but rather the strange fancies the wind would gather and scatter to the desperate brains of those who walk in wind and rain and seek to look behind the curtain of this world so flickering and uncertain she expounded on the "new hope" but scorned the masons and the pope einstein and darwin, freud and marx were only fit to feed the sharks it all made perfect, and no sense i was her perfect audience her flow of words fell down on me like raindrops on a calm blue sea then suddenly - she stopped i thought perhaps she wanted to cop a cigarette - and offered my pack but she was staring out the window behind my back i turned and looked - nothing - she shook her head - "for a minute i thought i saw - wait - i forgot - " and with this and other mumbles she jumped to her feet and stumbled out the door - leaving me in a cloud of wavering mystery perhaps at this juncture i should take the time to puncture any thought you might entertain that jane was a "dangerous dame" and in view of what i will relate as to my and her ultimate fate that she was some kind of "femme fatale" and not just an unfortunate gal another speck of human dust wandering blind , as we all must who fell in with the wrong crowd - the roaring in my brain is getting loud - part 4: reenter henry

ace of night - 3. davenport 7 - 5297

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no dame tonight. all right, i had been wrong before. and chuckie wouldn't be in harry's office forever, and i did not feel like looking at him or listening to him again that night - or any night. i finished my free drink, left a half buck tip - pretty generous, i thought, considering my situation - for the bartender, and got up off the stool. i was halfway to the door. "hey, pal, got a second?" the bartender was holding something out to me. i went over to him. it was a matchbook he was holding. "just take this. it might interest you, might not." i didn't feel like arguing with him. "sure, why not?" i figured there was a phone number written on it, or an address. i took it. "thanks." he just nodded, turned away. i started to head back down harry's dark hallway. then it hit me. jeez, what a chump i was - was i losing my touch, and my mind? i had been away for too long. way too long. it was some kind of frame! some cop - probably chuckie - would brace me, they would find the matchbook on me and the phone number or address on it would be the number or address of some poor slob harry had just had bumped off - probably in a very messy way, as he liked to do. or, the matchbook had some fingerprints on it that - you get the idea. i got close to the wall, and took the matchbook out of my pocket. not wasting any time, i held it in my handkerchief and rubbed it over good, even the nine or ten matches still in it.sure enough, there was a phone number - just a phone number - written in it. davenport 7 - 5297 easy enough to remember. i tossed the matchbook down at my feet. and as it fell into the shadow i saw the gold lettering on the front: johnny demarco's . best food and drink. never heard of it. i made it outside to the sidewalk. nobody braced me. i started walking down the street. i passed a couple of cabs. so maybe there was no frame. maybe i was imagining things. even so, i was right back where i was before i saw harry. davenport 7 - 5297. what did i have to lose? i decided to call it when i got back to my hotel. it started to rain. just what i needed. i still had eleven blocks to go back to the hotel and i didn't feel like wasting money on a cab. then it started to really rain. what the hell, i would take a cab. i was wearing my only decent suit and i didn't want it getting waterlogged. i ducked into the nearest doorway and waited for one. the rain was jumping in the street when one finally came by. i could barely make out that it was a cab. i jumped out and waved and it came over. i had to jump back so it wouldn't send a wave crashing over me. i reached for the rear door. "hey mister, i saw him first! it was me that called him over!" i turned and there she was. the dame. the one i knew i was g "no problem, miss. we can share. in fact, i will pay, as far as i am going." "that's mighty nice of you, mister , but you don't have to be a big shot. i'll pay my way." "i'm headed for the hotel marmont." "the belmore - it's one more block." the cabbie leaned over. "jeez, will one or both of you get in, you are wet enough already." she got in. i got in beside her, and closed the door. "did i hear you say hotel marmont, pal?" "yes, you did." he pulled out. i turned to the girl. "and what did you say your name was?" "miss lost lamb. you must be mister smooth." "the old lines are the best lines. say, a guy staying in a hotel, a girl staying in a hotel, we got a lot in common." "the belmore is a ladies residence hotel - no gentlemen beyond the lobby." "one of those places. but maybe i'm not a gentleman." "then you don't even get in the door." "ha ha. my name is jeff - jeff josephus." "i told you my name. miss lost lamb." the more she talked the more i thought i heard some kind of accent under the all american girl act. frog? kraut? russki even? "if you say so," i answered. "pleased to meet you. hey, maybe i'll see you around. living so close and all." "you never know, do you? " she turned and looked out at the rain. "nice view, huh? very scenic. i used to live around here, but i been away for a while." she ignored me. i let it go. for now. the cab kept going. we hit mostly green lights. "we must be almost there," she finally said. "here you go, pal. hotel marmont." the meter said three sixty five. i gave him four ones. "keep it. she can pay you too if she wants." i got out. it was raining harder than ever. i ran into the hotel without looking back. maybe she didn't know it, but miss lost lamb hadn't seen the last of me. 4. the wind and the rain

pals, part 2 : jane

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she said her name was jane a perfect name for a sad refrain though i knew not at the time when she locked her eyes on mine as to why she spoke to me that remains a mystery that i can not now dispel though the story i can tell "you wouldn't have - a cigarette?" "sure, " i mumbled, "you bet." "and a light?" "right." she did not even say thanks her eyes were complete blanks "you live here?" she asked my brain was not up to the task i muttered something insensible even to myself incomprehensible "i didn't mean here in ray's cafe i meant where do you live all day?" "sometimes i live here," i said "when the place closes i go to bed." "and where might that be?," she insisted i was surprised by the way that she persisted i said "i live in mrs brown's well within the outskirts of town for working persons who need their sleep her prices are not too steep" her eyes bored into me "so you value respectability?" "i just value my rest" "yes," she replied, "i suppose that is best" i was now over my initial shock and managed to almost normally talk her eyes scanned the cafe in her curious listless way she fingered a strand of her hair and hit me with another stare "your friend you talk to every night you seem to think he's pretty bright" "you must mean henry," i replied her eyes narrowed (they were never wide) "henry is not a bad chap but his conversation is all over the map" "but i never see you argue - do you think all his pronouncements true?" "oh no, " i replied "it's just that i never take sides" "i think all talk is the same just a pulse in the human brain that releases the pressure of existence even if it makes no sense" "i see." she stared intently "then you might be just the man for me - what did you say your name was again?" "i didn't - but it's ben" "well, ben" - did her eyes slightly glisten? "i like to talk myself, but no one listens so i have silently walked to earth crushed by indifference since my birth that somebody might hear my views and not beg off with some excuse after all these years almost brings me to tears" her gaze, though empty, transfixed me and i answered "certainly i am sure that your well rehearsed opinions over my mind will exert dominion" no further prompting did she need her words flowed forth with urgent speed on religion, politics, love and art and that was just a start pausing only some alcohol to get or to light another cigarette (which i continued to provide) her soliloquy did not subside to get a word in i did not try i could see from the corner of my eye bertha at the bar dispensing booze and looking on quite amused suddenly jane's conversation ended and silence descended her eyes turned off their beam and i awoke as from a dream she mumbled something i could not discern to the clock on the wall her eyes did turn "oh my," she said, "it's closing time i hope i haven't been out of line boring you this way" "oh no, " i heard myself say the pleasure was all mine let's do it again some time" she managed a sort of smile which i saw as without guile and left with no more reply except a mumbled good-bye as she quickly made her way out i thought, what was that all about? i saw bertha wiping the bar with a rag and realized i was nine-tenths in the bag i staggered home and fell into bed curious visions swirled in my head all i could think of was my new friend and i wondered how it all would end as my sleepy brain grew dim henry, i thought - what of him? is he involved in all this? is there something i have missed? part 3: dangerous

poem

a sinking boat a flowing stream a rapidly expanding dream a windswept grave an empty tomb a room within a room within a room a crashing wave a darkening beach a hand just out of reach an echoing note a rising moon oblivion - and none too soon

ace of night - 2: another old friend

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i walked down the hall from harry's office to the bar. it was dark, just the way it used to be. not a very classy touch. for a guy like harry, who wanted to move up in the world and not be a bum any more. like i said, harry didn't have a lot of imagination. if i wanted someone to bankroll me, it looked i would have to look elsewhere. but i didn't want to think about harry. i wanted to think about the dame i was going to meet at the bar. i went through the door to the bar. it was empty. not even a bartender. no dame. hey, maybe i was wrong. like i said, i have been wrong a few times before. or maybe she just hadn't shown up yet. either way, i decided to cash in the free drink harry had promised me. if i could find the bartender. i looked down the bar. "anybody home?" i called down it. "yeah, hold on." i heard a phone click down around the side of the bar and a bartender in a white shirt and a red bow tie came around to the front and walked down toward me. "you must be the guy getting the free drink." "that's me." "first customer all night and you get a free drink." i didn't have anything to say to that. i didn't like the guy's looks. he was big, but not what you would call a gorilla. more like an elephant - big, but soft. soft. like all the punks you saw these days. "what'll it be?" "scotch and soda, no ice. make it a double. i suppose a double counts as one drink , right?" "sure, pal. if you say so. it's not worth arguing about, is it?" " i guess not." see what i mean? not worth arguing about - what kind of attitude was that? in my day we looked for things to argue about - and fight about - just to stay sharp. but i didn't say anything to the guy, just let him fix my drink. maybe i was getting as soft as he was. as all these punks were. maybe. in any case, my thoughts were interrupted by a voice behind me. a voice i would recognize anywhere. "well, look who's back. if it ain't jewboy jeff josephus. how's it going, jewboy?" and chuckie callahan, the pride of the homicide department, slapped me on the back hard enough to knock me across the bar if he hadn't opened his mouth first and warned me. "couldn't be better, chuckie." i gave him a quick once over. he hadn't changed a bit since i had seen him four or five years before - a little bit thinner maybe, no better dressed, and looking just as mean and just as dumb as ever. "are you back, too? or maybe you never left?" "where would i go? this is my home." he sat down on the stool beside me and smiled with his orange and green teeth. "so, hitler didn't get you, huh, jewboy? maybe we should have given him a few more months." "i was thinking the same about you and the king of england." the bartender put my drink in front of me. chuckie gave him a look - i could say a mean look, but that was the only kind he had. "coming right up, detective, coming right up." and the guy went back to get whatever free drink chuckie was entitled to. "so you never went anywhere, huh, chuck?" i asked, just to keep the friendly conversation going. suddenly i had an overwhelming feeling that i had had this conversation a million times before in a million different lifetimes, but it passed. "no. but i was involved, you might say. involved. you might be surprised. " "yeah, i would be." "there was a lot of spies and fifth columnists around." "and i bet you shook down every one of them." "hey, same game, different players." the bartender came back with chuckie's drink - a bloody mary - a lot faster than he had mine. chuckie gave him another look and he disappeared back to the end of the bar. "you look a little thin, chuck. you not eating right? maybe you got syphilis? with the war on, you got those sailors coming in from all over the world. you got to watch out for those guys." "very funny. i see you still got your smart jewboy mouth. but, no kidding, times have been a little tight." he took a sip of his drink. you couldn't tell if he liked it or not. same old chuckie. "tight, huh?" i answered him. "where i been - " "jeff, jeff." he held his hand up exactly the same way harry had. "i don't want to hear it." he took another gulp of his bloody mary. "let me guess - you parachuted into hitler's secret hideaway with with four hundred pounds of dynamite strapped to your back." "something like that." "great. wonderful. but that was then, and today is the first day of the rest of your life." he gave me his extra special mean look, with mustard and onions. "what are you doing here, jeff?" "just a social call. looking up old friends." i took a sip of my drink - not the most double double i ever had. "yeah? well, i am here on business." "always business with you, chuck." i remember years ago i asked chuckie where he got off shaking down everybody in town when he was just a lousy homicide detective and he told me "hey, everybody can kill somebody, right? even if it's by accident. i figure they are just opening an account." now he said, "i am here on harry's business." he looked around the bar. "which, as you can see, doesn't look too good." "appearances can be deceiving." "i wish. just a word to the wise, harry may not the best guy to be palling around with just now. unless things start looking up for him." "thanks. i appreciate it." "i hope so." chuckie leaned right into me. "you know, jeff, i am not as unpatriotic as you seem to think. even though i think we were on the wrong side of the war, with the commies and the king of england and all. but in consideration of your service, i am going to let you slide this time - one - one time. " "thanks." "now the next time i find you trespassing on my balliwick, i am going to have an itchy palm - maybe a double itchy palm. you understand?" "you were never hard to understand." "i mean not to be." he leaned back and sighed. "now i got to check up on harry. poor harry. it doesn't look good for him. " "does it look good for anybody?" "you got a point there. where is this great postwar boom i keep hearing about?" "i couldn't tell you." i shrugged. "maybe you could cut harry a little slack on that account?" "no, no, that's not how it works. that would set a bad precedent. where is the respect , the respect for the law, if you let punks get by without paying? even an old established punk like harry?" i didn't have any answer to that. chuckie tossed down the last of his drink and got up and headed down the hall. leaving me alone with my thoughts. and the empty bar, and my weak double scotch, and the soft punk bartender staring at me from the end of the bar from under his bushy brows, and still no dame. 3. davenport 7 - 5297

near and far

edna the elephant and ruby the rhino they were the best of friends and they splashed in the mud together out where the rainbow ends so near and yet so far no matter who you are when the rainbow turns to black and white and fleeting day to endless night at the sunset's scarlet dance they hear the hunters jeep advance and the helicopter's blades sing a murderous serenade so near and yet so far no matter where you are and they splashed in the mud together out where the rainbow ends

all souls - a fragment

'tis the night of all souls and the world's full of holes demons pour through the skies with their burning red eyes seizing helpless human creatures they feast on their finest features and turn their purest essences into obscene excrescences oh eldritch night! how fearfully fated! for this have humans waited through eons of woe and terror crime and folly and error only to come at last to this unholy blast which leaves to darkened heavens sight the icy wastes of endless night

pals, part 1

pals should be true and blue pals should be there for you but since the truth will set us free let me tell you what my pal did to me i was working for the phone company, northern line and didn't think much at the time about anything but getting smashed after my monthly check i cashed a kindly soul named mrs brown ran the cleanest boarding house in town i was her most faithful boarder and she kept my life in order fried eggs in the morning, a sandwich for afternoon mashed potatoes at evening, smooth as a breeze in june clean sheets every night things couldn't have been more right but sometimes a strange restlessness came over me, i confess and under a mocking moon i would head for the local saloon bertha boone, the bartender was a solid sender her heart was halfway good and you always knew just where you stood my tab was just so much a month and though there was no free lunch i could sit with half a glass as flickering shadows behind me passed the free lunch was just a memory an ancient tale told hesitantly by my pal henry's uncle dan an intermittently taciturn man henry himself seemed without guile we used to chat once in a while that's why i refer to him as my pal the only one i had, withal henry was a deep cuss never made much of a fuss unfailingly polite night after night he could discuss any subject and would never object to any opinion or party line even mine if i advocated anarchy he would smile pleasantly if i pleaded for world government he would nod a half assent all opinions are the same he asserted without shame just something to pass the time without reason or rhyme this easygoing attitude he extended to the passions rude and affected a weary glance toward love and romance and would laugh at any poor john who'd become a female's pawn and professed but little respect for the fair and gentle sex at his views i felt no shock but liked to listen to him talk i mean, the price was right and so passed night after night but the universe slices and dices even the humblest paradises and my serene little world into a dark abyss was hurled she didn't seem blessed or cursed we hardly noticed her at first she sat in a corner of the room portending no particular doom one night henry didn't show i had no place else to go i just sat there like a lump feeling down in the dumps and then the anonymous lady apparently not afraid of me came over and sat in henry's seat without missing a beat and looked at me with an eye that was neither wet nor dry that wasn't blue or gray or brown and she didn't smile or frown she seemed neither young nor old fat or thin or hot or cold and only aroused in me the faintest flicker of curiosity little did i know that this feeble flicker would grow into a bonfire of despair into which my soul would dumbly stare part 2: jane

ace of night - 1. a friendly conversation

<> i flipped my butt into harry's wastebasket and sat down. harry leaned back and looked at me. he didn't look like he'd changed much since i saw him last. if anything, he looked meaner than ever. "that wasn't very polite, jeff." he reached out with his long gorilla arm and pulled the wastebasket closer. he shook it, made sure the butt was out, and put it back down. "and you could set the place on fire. i wouldn't like that." "very polite? where i been --" harry held up his hand. "jeff, jeff, stop right there. i don't want to hear about where you've been. i don't want to hear your sad story. if you want to tell your sad story, i got the phone book here - " he picked the phone book up and slapped it back down on the desk - "and you can look up the sad story department under 's' and tell it to them. i hear you guys start to tell your sad stories all day and i'm sick of them. i can get a bag of sad stories cheaper than a bag of peanuts at the polo grounds. " i just leaned back - in what felt like the same uncomfortable chair he'd always had - and looked at him. "you going to offer me a drink?" "no." "why not?" "because this is my office, not the bar. stop at the bar on your way out, and buy - b-u -y, yourself a drink." "come on, harry, stop trying to act tough. you wouldn't have let me in here in the first place, if you didn't want to hear me out." harry laughed, that little laugh he had that you could hardly hear. "all right, what can i do for you?" "it's what i can do for you. i thought you might have something for me." "maybe." "maybe? when maybe?" "whenever. i'll let you know." "so, can you let me have a little something, keep me going until you let me know.?" "you mean, pay you before you do anything? no. no, that's not the way i operate. never was." "i don't know, harry. it seems to me it was. " "your memory is at fault." i shook my head. "i don't know if i like this new world i come back to. it seems different somehow. colder, or something." "yeah, well take it up with jesus, or truman or betty crocker or whoever is in charge. because it ain't me." it wasn't the time or the place. i decided to give in. but down the line, harry would pay. he would pay like no man had ever paid before. it's a funny thing about me - i can kind of predict the future. not exactly, not one hundred percent all the time, but still - i am pretty good at it. and the whole time harry was talking, i was thinking about what was going to happen when i left his office. it was one of the reasons i played it cool, why i let harry ride. because when i got up and left harry's office i was going to meet a dame. and not just any dame. i was going to meet a dame who would almost be too hot for me to handle. who would take me to the end of the night and the edge of oblivion and let me look into the winking eye of the abyss. could i make it back? i couldn't wait to find out. "well, okay," i told harry. "if that is the way it has to be, i guess that is the way it has to be. harry gave me a funny look then, like he hadn't expected me to give up so easy. well, he hadn't, had he? "not going to try anything funny, are you, jeff?" "who, me?" he leaned back in his chair. "a lot of things have changed around here." "i'm sure they have." "one thing that has changed - i got more people - actually quite a few people - looking out for me now. not that i can't look for myself, you understand. but with all these people looking out for me, you know what?" "what?" "i got more time to look out for myself. and with more time to look out for myself, i can do more good for myself. and the more good i do myself the more people want to be my friend and look out for me even more. and it just goes on like that." this time i didn't bother to say anything. harry went on. "it's like - like - what do you call it?" "perpetual motion?" "yeah - perpetual motion. or you throw a rock in the river and it keeps making circles - more and more circles." "until they finally hit the shore." "yeah, but the shore might be in china. anyway, i got lots of new friends." "that's good. everybody can use friends." "friends like the mayor, the police commissioner, some city councilors and judges -" "just some city councilors and judges?" "for now. well, jeff, i think this fascinating conversation is over. unless you got something else." i pretended to think a little bit. "i might have something that might interest you." "and you're just remembering it now? it must be good." "well - it's - it's not a sure thing. not right now. it's just - a possibility, you know what i mean?" "i know what you mean. you know, another thing that has changed - i'm not so interested as before in these one time deals." harry gave a little shrug. "you know how it is, you plan them, you bankroll them, more and more people get involved, then some little thing goes wrong, and the whole thing goes down the drain. i've come to prefer more steady sources of income, you know what i'm saying?" "sure. but i still think you might be interested." "okay, what is it? a bank? a payroll? don't tell me a jewelry store?" "no, nothing like that." "like what, then?" harry rubbed his eyes to show he was impatient. "you hear about this new thing - the atomic bomb?" "yeah, i read the papers from time to time. what about the atomic bomb?" "well - like i say, it's not certain, but i think i might - might be able to steal one or two of them." harry looked over my shoulder at the door and laughed his little laugh. "that's great, jeff. you got a fence lined up for this bomb, huh? or maybe you could take it out on broadway under your coat like a watch or a tie - hey buddy, want to buy an atomic bomb?" "no, no - we wouldn't sell it. we would use it ourselves." "oh? for what?" "to rule the world." and then harry did something i had never seen him do before. he laughed, really laughed. laughed out loud, like john q citizen at an abbott and costello movie. "that's good, jeff," he said when he finished. "that's really good. it's so good, i tell you what i am going to do. i'm going to break my own rule. i'll call out to the bar and tell them you can have a free drink. but just one." he held up a finger. "one." i stood up. "thanks, harry. and thanks for your time." i wasn't surprised. i knew harry didn't have any imagination. or know how to think big. at least i had a free drink out of it. and i had a date with a dame. 2. another old friend

the unread book

a flower, a branch, a bird, a cloud a book not to be read aloud a life that passes in an hour a winding stair in a ghostly tower a laughing child, a shuddering sage the dream of a forgotten age a lizard on a moss grown crypt a poem in an unknown script o wanderer, the day is done look as the disappearing sun casts a light on the darkened sea for what has been will no longer be what has been written will not be read the living will no more mock the dead the rain will fade into the sand and darkness hold all in its hand

education of a cad

once there was a maiden fair  who spent her life in a morris chair  and when she heard the clock strike three  and saw it was still not time for tea  she ran her fingers through her long red hair  miss jocelyn jones had never been kissed  so she became a satanist  when she met the lord of the flies  and listened to his lies  his advances she did not resist  prudence peters was detected  disrespecting the family by whom she was protected  and so they turned her out of doors  amid the winter's harshest roars -  with sin her path soon intersected  * but of all the melancholy tales of trusting and betrayed females  there are none so sweetly sad  as of those whose who met a certain cad...  the honorable charles st charles, of cheltenham and bath  through the ladies cut a swath like a louche latin or lustful turk  he made of maidens much short work  and filled the highways, roads and lanes  with cast off kates and jilted janes  of such behavior from a son  of civilized christian albion  what can one do but sigh? and turn a chastened eye  toward heaven's sorrowed gaze  and hope and pray for better days...  the honorable charles had his detractors  who thought him the worst of malefactors  but had his sympathizers too who thought eve's daughters deserved their due  of blame for tempting the poor lad  spawn of a drunken sire and mother quite mad  orphaned indeed before the age of ten and early taken up by sporting men  even as a smooth cheeked lad  there was a certain way charles had  of always seeming to acquiesce  in anything his fellows pressed  upon his burgeoning consciousness  sometimes more, but rarely less  he would nod polite approval  and never ask for the removal  of any new or old temptation  and with little contemplation  allow himself to plunge headfirst  into each appetite or thirst...                                               *

outlaw blues

an outlaw is always on the lam from society's total scam he gets it while he can waiting the day when he faces the man another doorway, another night dreams interrupted that never take flight a junkshop of memories, mostly bad mom and jack daniels, with their smiles so sad over the river the smile of dawn taunts the outlaw to get it on the man is sleeping, in his penthouse high and the outlaw is left to wonder why someday, in a shining hour the man will come down from his tower to face the outlaw's wrath at the end of his heroic path but when - when - when? the sun is rising yet again the outlaw stretches and blinks the bottle beside him winks "though the way be long and cold and my dreams get a little old o friend so faithful and true what would i do without you?"

tears of a clown

my tears flowed like wine because you said you'd not be mine and then they flowed like cheap champagne because you caused me endless pain they flowed like seltzer water because you were the devil's daughter they flowed like chamomile tea because you meant the world to me i scanned the darkening skies above dreaming of eternal love desperately searching for a sign that you would finally be mine alas, alas, my dream came true now i can only say to you i hope the times of sad regret are ones that we can both forget

frankie and johnny: a villanelle

frankie pulled out her gat her eyes were pools of hate johnny put on his hat don't look at me like that johnny saw it was too late frankie pulled out her gat on the window sat a cat silent and placid as fate johnny put on his hat you dirty stinking rat you was always second-rate frankie pulled out her gat why don't we have a chat our differences are not so great johnny put on his hat a breeze wafted through the flat "you had your chance to be straight" frankie pulled out her gat johnny put on his hat

modern age

this is the modern age so they tell me anyhow things used to be one way but they are different now how fortunate we are to live in these bright times when the burning fires of truth have devoured history's lies how terrible the darkness in which poor humans lay farewell to folly's shadows hello to bright new day i hope that none among us dwell fondly on the past now let us all march forward for we are free at last

nature's way

see how the little seagull floats over the stormy sea see how the little termite devours the mighty tree see the little mosquito spread oceans of disease as in the river's placid flow the crocodile take his ease see the platoons of scarlet ants munch whole sugar plantations and the humble tsetse fly devastate human nations see the smiling monkey slowly peeling a pomegranate as wind and wave and eternity erode the spinning planet

town tramp

there's one in every town one that gets left behind when the other girls head for broadway or hollywood and vine there's something about her something not quite there you think she'd be long gone but she's still here marked for trouble from the day she was born daughter of darkness child of scorn they whisper behind the curtains snicker at the general store you'd think she'd have had enough but she comes back for more len jones is a deacon in the church bob jackson has a spotless reputation but their eyeballs always follow her when she walks past the trailways station tommy wilson is the quarterback on the undefeated high school team but even on the night before the big game she haunts his dreams at night she goes out walking with her handbag trailing low she must be going somewhere but where is there to go? she wanders past the pool hall saunters past the five and dime she looks up at the moon and stars but stops at the county line

a mother's prayer

the angels will be waiting in heaven when they strap you to the electric chair they'll be waiting in heaven, joey if they listen to a mother's prayer if they listen to a mother's prayer for justice to be finally done for the truth to be finally triumphant as bright as the rising sun this world is fallen and twisted and drowned in a swamp of sin to save her helpless children oh how can a mother begin? you were such a beautiful child maybe just a little bit wild but deep down you were just pretending your inner light burned neverending your soul shone forth for all to see but you aroused the jealousy of those who want to drag things down there are plenty of them in this town who can't see in front of their noses and always see thorns not roses who are blinded by truth and beauty and think denial is their duty no, it wasn't the nicest neighborhood but i always taught you to be good yes, it was a mother's secret hope that you would be the first american pope now that hope will not be fulfilled thanks to mister district attorney de ville but what will be his own fate when he answers for his lies at heaven's gate? for the jurors who were led astray by his perfidy i have this to say i hope you never feel the pain i felt that day walking away in the rain the angels will be waiting in heaven when they strap you to the electric chair they'll be waiting in heaven, joey if they listen to a mother's prayer

a strange story

a strange story comes from the antarctic. on the morning of september 13th 17__, a vessel captained by the famous captain blackbeard was searching the waters directly north of the enderby abyssal plain in search of the giant cranch squid, when a longboat was spotted floating on the water. as night had fallen, it was impossible to make out if there were any inhabitants on board. "we shall wait until morning, " announced the captain, with his habitual caution. "if it is still there, we shall ascertain its exact situation, and the situations of anyone who might happen to be on board." "but captain," protested little nell, "there may be a map of the location of buried treasure on board the boat, or even a chest of treasure itself." "indeed," added sinbad the sailor," see how low in the water the stern is. there may well be a treasure chest weighing it down." "your point is well taken," replied blackbeard. "we can hardly afford to miss this chance," cried the medicine man. "especially considering how poorly our fortunes have gone since setting out on this unfortunate voyage, nominally in search of the giant cranch squid. after ten long months - no treasure - and no squid." "very well then," answered the captain. "the matter is settled. nellie, light a torch. lower a boat. an extra tot of rum, my lads, for every jolly jack tar who volunteers to board yon mysterious vessel - treasure or no treasure!" "i volunteer!" cried sinbad. "i will board the vessel first. who's with me, eh?" "i!" answered little nell. "i shall carry the torch!" "and i!" cried the medicine man. "i shall man the left front oar, right behind nellie!" "and i!" cried the wandering jew. "and i" cried the jesuit. "andI i!" cried the queen of clubs, shaking her curls. "and i!" shouted the queen of spades, louder than all the rest. the moonlight glittered on her eye patch. "oh, i shall go along," drawled the jack of diamonds, twirling his mustache. "then we have a crew," exclaimed sinbad. "well done, comrades, well and truly done!" in the twinkling of an eye the boat was lowered into the curiously placid water. with sinbad waving his cutlass and little nell holding the torch aloft, the little craft fairly sped along the surface toward the dark and silent vessel drifting in the mist. (professor thunderby paused and relit his pipe) and yet the drifting vessel seemed to remain curiously out of reach. "harder, comrades! harder!" cried the medicine man. "pull with a will!" a curious phosphorence played around the elusive craft, taunting the straining rowers. finally they drew abreast of the silent craft. but they had lost sight of the ship behind them. (professor thunderby's pipe went out again. the embers in the fireplace, likewise, flickered into darkness...) sinbad reached out with a grappling hook and seized the gunwale and pulled the drifting vessel close to the longboat. a desperate shout went up from the weary but jubilant oarpullers. little nell held her torch over the stern of the captured craft, which rode low and heavy in the water. "look!" she cried. "look ye! here be no treasure!" on the bottom of the boat, luridly lit by the flame of the torch, lay a body! the body of a young woman!" "is she dead?" cried the medicine man, looking over the shouder of sinbad. "dead?" he answered. "dead? aye, she looks like she's been dead these hundred years!"

voyage to star 25, part 2: mrs wilson's diner

for part one, click here

maisie was a philosopher nothing disconcerted her she had seen all the pictures, heard all the tales still had a little wind in her sails though her mind often seemed to drift she was always on time for her shift and had won mrs wilson's trust without breaking through her solid crust tonight, though, mrs wilson seemed vexed well, perhaps just a little perplexed her agitation gave maisie pause and she wondered what was the cause "some fellers came in tonight. they just didn't look right." maisie could hardly be more surprised though nothing showed in her dark eyes mrs wilson had run the diner for four decades she was not a blushing maid her patrons were not from the top drawer maisie had never seen her discombobulated before "um - what did these fellers say or do? did they actually threaten you? where was leroy? he's never around - " maisie laughed " - when you need him, i have found" "it wasn't what they did or said - but i could see right into their heads!" "well", maisie replied with opacity "i never knew you had such a capacity." "their evil ideas were fairly bursting forth from their skulls with walpurgisnachtian froth - " this was not mrs wilson's usual manner of speaking maisie wondered if her brains were leaking "well, leroy should be around soon why don't you go on over to your room -" (for mrs wilson lived right behind the shop) " - and laudanum why don't you take a drop?" "no, i don't want to sleep who know what terrors in the deep from which i may never return may writhe and slime and slash and burn -" maisie replied with a smile half bright "but isn't that true every night?" she proceeded to put her apron on and wished mrs wilson would run along "oh look, here comes leroy now" around midnight leroy craved some chow at morning noon and twilight too his stomach rumblings would come due leroy enforced the law in the little town always had a smile, hardly ever a frown he had a rusty badge and a billy club and he was everybody's bub he had a gun in his holster he had never drawn in miscreants' faces he would yawn and say why do you have to make a fuss yes, leroy was an amiable cuss "glad you decided to come round tonight mrs wilson has had a fright" but when maisie turned around mrs wilson's agitation was not to be found "it's nothing, leroy, don't worry yourself" mrs wilson took a pie down from the shelf "i was just being a neurotic old frump sometimes i get down in the dumps" incurious leroy, nowise upset on his favorite stool down his carcass let and with his customary yawning and stretching said "maisie, my dear, tonight you look particularly fetching" "and you too edna, you look as good as this pie" leroy thoughtfully rubbed his eyes things were back to normality and proceeded with customary informality some of the regulars came and went a few hard earned dollars they spent leroy continued to eat his fill and maisie leaned against the grill outside it started to rain, then thunder maisie began to idly wonder what had upset mrs wilson so perhaps, she thought, i will never know she heard a car pull up outside and then the door flung open wide leroy did not look back or up but slowly put down his coffee cup two customers stood in the door that maisie had never seen before they were very neatly dressed their shirts were ironed and their ties were pressed but such details seemed hardly germane as they stood there in the wind and rain their features maisie had never before seen their eyes were red and their faces were green

the lady and the cowpoke - a fragment

you ride the range you man so strange would you like an apple or an o-range? don't pick up that cat, it's got the mange she was a good old kitty cat and did her duties with eclat but life has wrestled her to the mat now there is no more this in her that i'm glad you dropped by look at the sky my oh my how time does fly are you sure you don't want some tea? the gypsy made it especially for me despite its curious pungency it really contains no mystery poor man, you look pale let me tell you a tale once there were three princesses with scarlet, gold and sable tresses who always wore white satin dresses and by a witch were given three guesses as to which kingdoms they would rule after they had finished school and which emperors were the biggest fools in which to sink their claws so cruel a crimson cloud across the sky drew the golden princess's eye and with a sad and mournful sigh she sat on a rock and began to cry o sister, cried the scarlet maid what has made you so afraid? have all our secrets been betrayed? and all our rescuers waylaid? ....... the cowpoke listened to the lady's tale and smiled and nodded without fail out in the distance he heard a wail a leaf flew past the window -- next a gale? the conversation reached another stage the parrot looks so unhappy in his cage let's turn the page would you like to blow some gage?

song of the damned number 21

i am just a lonely moocher with no present past or future and the windows watch me well on the rainy street to hell and my brain begins to hum for a taste of opium and its incandescent streams of fervid fleeting dreams i would sell my ragged soul for the tenth part of a bowl there's nowhere that i wouldn't slink for just one more - one more drink all you mandarins and missionaries in your mansions museums and libraries will you know a brighter final fate than the stranger dragging past your gate?

i was the one

i was the one i was there i walked the dog i bounced the ball i fed the cat i sang the song i was there i saw it all happen when it was over they came and asked me because i was the one i spun the chamber i calmed the crowd i sharpened the stake i pointed at the bird and the dog ran down the street i walked up the stairs i rang the bell i sold the encyclopedia i sat on the front porch lily mae came out and offered me a glass of lemonade i accepted politely and looked out at the street the crowd was gone the dog ran under the light i drank the lemonade and gave the glass back to lily mae who waited patiently while mrs jones looked out the window but i was not worthy even though i was the one i howled at the moon i grew the fangs i defied the mob i wept in despair i walked the dog i bounced the ball i mixed the mint julep i begged for forgiveness all these things happened in a single night a night that never ended i was there i was the one

in the dark

lift a glass and raise a cheer to the stuffy bankers of yesteryear the snooty dowagers, the butlers stiff the girls named josie, and the guys named cliff the cop on the beat, with his face so red, the bookie with his hat tipped just right on his head the cabbies, the waiters, the hat check girls the saucy debutantes tossing their curls the windbag senator, the girl reporter commissioner johnson and mayor mcwhorter newsboys, shoe shine boys, cracking wise all right - break it up, you guys the playboy spending grandfather's dough chester - you should invest in our show i'll get back to you on that, sweetheart aw come on - all i need is a start abbie the tailor - his cobbler pal moe watch through their windows - the whole city on the go you call that a suit - you call that a hat? i can do you much better than that the sky's the limit - it's looking good if they could see me in the old neighborhood standing on the corner with benny the dip just before he gives me a tip on the fifth horse in the seventh race how did i ever come to this place? trying to get the big story? trying to cover myself with glory? don't send me again to the debutantes dance please, muggsy, won't you give me a chance this story is just about to get hotter and i can blow it right out of the water i know the story is pretty tangled but hey - i got an angle the cops are doing it by the book but i think i see something they overlooked there's never been a story like this before with horror you'll gasp, with laughter you'll roar your mouth will fly open, with delight you will squeal when it all comes together in the last reel

jewelry

no doubt, gerald, you will say that the devil made you do it no, aunt , the devil didn't make me do it nor did i succumb to a sudden impulse or ungovernable passion - i did not need the money and was not playing a prank or being initiated into a secret society i was not making a statement about the modern world or being lured to my doom by an evil, scheming woman i had no plans to travel to china or tahiti no, i stole your jewelry for one reason only - because i am totally, irredeemably corrupt - outside on park avenue and 89th street the wind tested the leaves of a london plane tree

page from a notebook

0. the essence of the thing is the thing itself. 1. sense escapes. the thing is left behind. 2. the former expansion of the essence surrounds the thing. 3. the expanded essence is the word. 4. a collision of expanded essences is an affair. 5. affairs are remembered. 6. what is remembered is an affair. 7. the escaped essence leaves the expansion behind, guarding the thing. 8. the thing growls menacingly at the expansion. 9. the escaped essence flies away, laughing. 10. laughter is an affair whose essence has escaped. 11. a thing whose essence has attempted to escape is a laughing matter. 12. but the essence of the thing, which is the thing itself, is no laughing matter. 13. an affair that is no laughing matter is a tough crowd. 14. the essence of the thing is a tough crowd. 15. a crowd with an escaped essence is tough.

reunion in the rain

when you're lost in the rain in a back road in tennessee on christmas eve in nineteen forty-three and you see a light in the trees just up ahead and you wonder if you really wouldn't be better off dead and you push through the broken general store screen door the first thing you see is a leg sticking out on the floor and pappy looks up with a smile in his whiskers white and asks if it ain't just been one hell of a night this young lady here came at me with a knife it was all i could do to snuff out her miserable life excuse me sir while i drag her carcass outdoors as soon as i do my time is entirely yours you know you were here before in another life on the run with sheriff john brown's brand new young wife yes you escaped that time - escaped too well did you really think they forgot you down in hell? your eyes adjust to the smoky dismal scene lit by a single lamp of kerosene there's a knife on the counter, a bible and a magazine you take a step closer - and can't hold back a scream it's her on the cover - so dead yet so alive you left her in laredo in nineteen and thirty-five and her face you've carried since in your shrinking soul like an endlessly burning diamond - or piece of coal the magazine falls from your hand to the sawdust floor a sudden wind blows through the opening door it's over now - you know you're finally beat you hear pappy say, jeff, i've got someone here i'd like you to meet...