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Bush, Butts, Bombs, Blood

By Louis Martin

Bush, butts, bombs, blood. Your blood, my blood, our blood, theirs. All in a flood. Bushful flood of moaning and groaning. And if your mood is wrong, you are wrong and you'll just have to swallow a Cheney, this little metal pill that will make you think twice before you ever dare think again. End all now. Why not? So what? Miles to go before I Davis. Sivad Selim. Put her in reverse, then let the clutch out. You'll have fun. 'nuf this? Evah Ll'uoy. Be patient out there in the desert. Don't touch your thing or hers. It might explode....


Wild Goose Chase

By Joe Smith

Grandpa spent the last day of the Golden Age out on the front porch, rocking in his old rocking chair. It was a slow day. No mail, no emergency calls from sphinxes, no medusas to be mended. The only visitor was a shepherd who dropped by with stale rumors about chimeras lurking in the hills. “But you haven’t actually laid eyes on one yourself, have you?” The shepherd was sorry his answer had to be no. Not for himself so much as for my grandpa, who used to be a famous veterinarian for mythical beasts....


Angeehadeejz, Bachelier ...

By Louis Martin

Sweet Heat at Enrico's on Sunday. We are under attack. The Blue Angels scream overhead. No bombs fall but we know how it feels. On the street an old Chinese woman stops, looks up, shielding her eyes from the sun with a hand. She looks scared. What is angelic about this show of power? Do what I tell you or I'll make an earthquake of your brain. Is not one small bird more holy than these factory beasts? I will drain your blood into the street where the dogs do it. I will pursue you to a cave where I will seal your fate with bombs. Bombs, business, butts, buildings ...


Frabulous Art, Frumptious Food ...

By Louis Martin

At the Weinstein Gallery on Geary there is a couple from the midwest there when I walk in. They are overweight and wear shorts. I look at their knees while Russell Manning, gallery rep with the soul of a poet, gives them the basics on Thorpe. It goes something like this: "His father worked in a shipyard. He is the eldest of seven children. Consequently the family always struggled financially. At the age of fifteen he decided to leave school and work in the shipyards along side his father ..." The man in shorts looked pained. "School was a miserable experience for him," says Russell....


Stairs

By Joe Smith

Much of Aristotle's complex physics rests upon the simple postulate that nature abhors a vacuum. Scientists today, of course, pooh-pooh the notion as absurd, but after Qin-shi and I make several swoops down Clement Street in search of that most prized of urban vacuums, a parking place, I wonder if they haven’t been too hasty in their dismissal of the old philosopher. Her eyes light up at the sidewalk displays, the piles of lily buds and lotus root, dried bean curd skin, winter melon, star anise and thousand year eggs, the crocks of Tientsin preserved cabbage ...


Disappeared in San Francisco ...

By Louis Martin

But before we discuss Thorpe, maybe you, like me, have been wondering where all the "girls" went. I mean the young Korean women who worked in the massage parlors around town. Well it seems that on June 30, Immigrations and Customs Enforcement (ICE) along with the Department of Homeland Security (DHS), busted them. I'm sure that you, like me, now feel much safer. Yes, these girls were quite a threat to the city, if not to the nation. True, Osama bin Laden is still on the loose but getting these girls off the streets and out of the houses is a real start in catching that bad guy. Way to go, ICE! Way to go, DHS! The troublesome thing is that they have "disappeared" these women with little explanation ...

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