Andrei Codrescu, Editor Laura Rosenthal; Contributing Editor Rex
Rose, Andrea Garland, Webmistress Rex
Rose, Webmeister INSIDE THE CORPSE POEMS APPLE
SKULLS THE BOOK OF J AND THE GENESIS REVIVAL MOCKING
BIRD RORSCHACHS FROM RAYBURN FOUR
PHOTOS THE
MIASMA, I A
MAN MISTAKING HIS EGO FOR HIS MOTHER A
CARTOON POEM FIVE
POEMS POEM LIMA
BEAN THE
MOON IN HIDING NIETZSCHEAN ANARACHY & THE POST-MORTEM
CONDITION POEMS DRINKING COCA-COLA ON RED ARMY STREET SLEEPWALKING THE
HOT AIR MACHINE MEDIA AS CULTURE: THE STATE OF THE FIASCO WHY
WRITE ABOUT THE RROMA? SUFFER
THE LITTLE CHILDREN EDISON'S
LAST BREATH CUSTOMER CONTACT, A Reality Poem |
POEMS BY BILL BERKSON Lounge
Music What's it going to be? What're you gonna do about it? Roundly deluded. What'll it be? Roy Eldridge, Little Jazz
A hard look and a fake I.D. won't get you
That epithetical "little" must've
brevity. Eldridge was his own quintessence:
His playing contains no stunts or slurs. Each bitten phrase meted out
with compact dignity.
zigguratic high notes, chomps
in prominence)
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