March 28, 2015
The Pooka MacPhellimey, a member of the devil class, sat in his hut in the middle of a firwood meditating on the nature of the numerals and segregating in his mind the odd ones from the even. Sure, ’tis just a taste of the prose poetry in At Swim-Two-Birds
March 7, 2015
Like a thread of chewing gum a child stretches in idle play from her mouth, the state road picked its dainty way through the hills. That proud sentence is from Summer in Williamsburg.
March 1, 2015
Maybe March will be the month of the snow lion at Lake Tahoe.
February 28, 2015
Long about 1952 in Denver, Colorado the loon flung himself down a hill again and again until exhausted on one of these.
February 23, 2015
Say hello to Ruth. Hello, Ruth. After L. Frank Baum died, Ruth was chosen to carry on with the Oz stories, and so she did, turning out an Oz book a year through the 1920s and 1930s. One of her tales, The Gnome King of Oz, was a particular favorite of mine when I was […]
February 7, 2015
Edith Piaf’s father was an itinerant contortionist. So there’s that.
February 1, 2015
Her own bulky figure was made more ponderous by layer on layer of ill-assorted garments of the kind donned from time to time as night wears on by one who, having been aroused hastily and in emergency, has arrived scantily clad. That forty pounder is from Show Boat.