He leans against an invisible wall upright, his head cocked lawnward. It is Ike standing over the ball Patient, his knickers immaculately laundered. He lets his wrists do the work. The arc of the putter’s head is minimal. He never presses or jerks. His putting style is inimitable. His haberdashery has reverted to that of […]
Ike’s Moebian Putting Read More »
I’d learned a lot of blues songs, quite a few famous and obscure standards from the 20s and 30s, some Irish tunes, a few old Burl Ives songs and others from the dread folk music revival years, a few Dylan tunes. (While I’d dug Dylan’s early lp’s, he was leaving me pretty lukewarm as
Zimmerman’s Syndrome Read More »
I grew up in 1950s Evanston, just north of Chicago, in a suburb even more rigorously segregated than the big town to the south. Evanston’s only high school stood at one end of the black “ghetto” (hardly an accurate monicker, since Evanston’s black population was mainly middle class). Until I went to high school, I
I like to stand outside in the winter night, a glass of gin in my hand, and watch the sky go by above me, half moon a white lemon with its companion star, the star two stars, then one if I concentrate while the clouds veil and unveil it all, and my focus shifts between
When, exiled for my wholly normal acts, I all alone injustice ponder long, And howl and chew my master’s artifacts, And look quite guilty though I’ve done no wrong, Wishing I might like Lassie be admired, Long-legged like him, like him with flowing coat, Desiring this dog’s tags, all unexpired, Repelled by all on which
Sonnet 29: Zigmund Shakespeare Read More »
I think that I shall never pee On something better than a tree. A tree whose hungry bark awaits Each message from my canine mates; A tree whose bark is never full, But always waits, dependable; A tree that may the year ’round bear A thousand greetings I’ve left there, And news of foe and
Trees: Zigmund Kilmer Steiner Read More »