Remember last call false scenarios

* RIP: Saul Bellow.

* Two Poems by Ron Padgett

Dog

The New York streets look nude and stupid
With Ted and Edwin no longer here
To light them up with their particularity
Of loving them and with intelligence
In some large sense of the word:
New York's lost some of its rough charm
And there's just no getting around it
By pretending the rest of us can somehow make up for it
Or that future generations will. I hear
A dog barking in the street and it's drizzling
At 6am and there's nothing warm
Or lovable or necessary about it, it's just
Some dog barking in the street somewhere.
I hate that dog.


The Way of All Handwriting

As long as there is hair on the human head
And people wish to arrange it
There will be combs.

But I don't want to sign my autograph,
I want to follow a coil
Down into my desire
To fall face first
Into a blue-green swimming pool
The shape and size of my own body,
So the joke will fly away from my physiognomy
And the steel strings that hold it to my interior monologue
Fall into the ionosphere
Where even combs go when they die,
Perfected, like the first crayons,
Bright basic colors.

* Rough cuts: tuscaloosa, by The Foreign Press, recorded live (first time with drums). [link fixed]