Where is Rumpelstiltskin when we need him?
The glass is low,
the bard, weatherwise, who wrote
the grand old ballad of “Sir Patrick,”
comes on all queer.
Do you hear what’s happening outside?

These days I bring the horoscope myself.
One can’t be too careful,
a woman runs a terrible risk.
What I was going to ask you is…I forgot.
A frightened god “trims minds.”

About fourteen passengers working overtime
by the end of the war restored challenged idées reçues,
set things to rights,
generated crossover buzz
with naked foot stalking my chamber…

This Issue

January 15, 2009