Backbone > Quarter to Three
Memory Milk
by Sparrow; Illustration by Thomas McDonough



Caren,
Marcus (my friend) came to visit
the house. “Would you like to be
a conehead?” Sylvia, my daughter, asked him. She showed Marcus
a page of coneheads she had
drawn: nine of them.

“Sure,” Marcus agreed. He examined the coneheads, to
choose one. “I’ll have this one,”
he said, pointing to No. Six.

“You have to choose a name,” Sylvia explained. Marcus chose
the name Roberto.

“And you have to choose
an occupation.”

“What occupations do the coneheads have?” Marcus inquired.

“Oh, there are artists,
and musicians...”

“Are there any garbage men?”

“There is no garbage in the conehead world.”

“What do they do with the art
that they no longer like?”

“They have really large museums, for all the art.”

“You mean the museums
replace garbage dumps?”

“Yes,” said Sylvia.

Calm fire,
Sparrow

The S
Try the S.
The S works.
I’ve used the X
but the S works better.

Punk Nostalgia
Pardon me, but I find punk
nostalgia dubious. To me, celebrating Agnostic Front is
like celebrating old newspapers:
“March 1979 was a great month
for the New York Times.”

A Proverb
There is a Lithuanian proverb:
“The King searches for a crumb.” Here is the story that
accompanies the proverb:
Once there lived a rich and powerful king. This king loved crackers, especially a rye cracker baked with dill.
One day he was eating such a cracker—the last cracker
he had. The king finished the cracker, and searched the table for crumbs. He ate all the crumbs he could find, but he continued to search, hoping to find one more crumb. With all his immense wealth and majesty, the King searched for a crumb!

The theologian Nilas Varet saw the king as a symbol
for God. “God owns the world, yet He searches for
a crumb—one crumb of devotion, of love for him,”
wrote Varet in 1352.

Charles IX
Starting now, I will
pronounce Charles IX
“Charles icks.”

Winter Journal
12/19
Tonight, as I walk, there is not snow but snowflakes.
Nowhere are the flakes concentrated enough to be “snow”.

Norman,
Lately our water has tasted poorly,
as if it had lain in a metal bucket.

In my dream last night I was in a post office on 33rd Street.

Disco music played on a loudspeaker,
and several people were dancing.
I began to dance, too—or rather to “bop”
(dance as I walked). Another dancer smiled at me.

Suddenly two black men, both in leotards, addressed
the crowd: “We’re looking for recipients of the
Cornflower Grant. Those of you who are excellent
dancers should apply.”

“Am I an excellent dancer?” I wondered.

Without carnations,
Sparrow

Leave It Out
A voice intones,
“Leave it out”

but poets
do not listen.

That’s why all
poems are
too long.

The Post-Olympics
The Post-Olympics are held in the same city as the Olympics; they begin three days after the other games end.

Numerous mediocre athletes compete. Each event has three awards: the Paper Medal, the Felt Medal, and the Cotton Medal. Very few spectators come, and the media completely ignores these games.

Bumper Sticker
(Seen in Tillson, NY):
IMPEACH BUSH WITH LOVE

Memory Milk
Place 3 raisins, a square of chocolate, and 2 Cheerios in a cup of milk. After 5 minutes, strain the milk and drink it.

Note: The milk retains the “memory” of the raisins,
chocolate, and Cheerios.