MY UNCLE

My uncle, trying
to get ahead of
the curve, forgets
things in advance.

He insists he no
longer remembers
certain future events.
He has no memory

of having died yet,
for example. He
says he is late
for next week's

appointment with
last year's doctor.

BEN LERNER

Ben Lerner says in
a poem that the
right to have it
both ways is either

inalienable, or it isn't,
that we can't have
it both ways. He
is either right, or

he isn't. He can't
have it both ways,
except inside a
poem, where he

can have it however
he damned well pleases.

OUR IDEA

We had been gluing
light to the ground
to make the day last
longer. Then we

hit on this idea of
adjusting the clocks.
So we did that.
We made the clocks

work overtime (with
no added pay) to
delay the onset
of evening. We

leaned back into
our idea and smiled.

THE PLAY

The applause dies
down, then dies.
The audience is
carried out on

one humongous
stretcher. Attempts
at resuscitation are
entertaining to watch,

but unsuccessful.
The play is cancelled,
as is the check.
The playwright is

shot, then
invited to dinner.

ART CRITICISM
for Peter Schjeldahl

A nondescript sculpture
rests in peace in the
corner, but the paintings
on the walls are

striking in what they
don't depict. Alligators
in agony, for example.
I didn't have time

to see everything, but
there wasn't much
worth seeing, at
least from this

distance. More
about this later.

SOMETHING

Nothing has been
happening more often
than usual recently.
I counted sixteen

times in the last
two days alone.
Some see this as a
trend, or as some

sort of warning.
Or as an equal measure
of each. I see it
as a prelude

to the second
coming of Something.

CHILD

This particular model
child comes in a
variety of sizes
and shapes, but

only one color.
It comes in the
color child. This
one has a special

talent for being
heard but not
seen. It screams
at the top of its

lungs while sobbing
softly at the bottom.