- Still nervous about Harold Bloom
- Gentle plea
- Flacks and figures
- I will be eating dinner tonight in the home of trumpers, I will not be the cause of any trouble and my son-in-law has asked his grandparents to not cause any either (there has never been trouble before, there will not be trouble tonight)
- Critical bite of cultural relativism
- Studying beyond education
- American exceptionalism
- Things I can't write here: stories of teaching art in a semi-rural Michigan high school
- Slow fire
- Passenger trains?
- Bob turned 59 yesterday
The god of war assured King Arsounas, “Do not be fooled by words. No life is taken. Know that no one was ever born, nor does anyone die.” In the violent mini-eternity of the warrior, combat is conducted according to a ritual formal as song: no one is ever born, no one can ever die. The left-handed rockabilly guitarist whose left arm was severed by an RPG round at Dak To has come back to life in a part of my body that died long before we started to patrol this part of the river of eternal woe. His life is mine though I never lived it. The violent backwash of the rotors is crimsoned by a fine aerosol spray of blood while a loudspeaker amplifies the goddess’ excited laughter.