THE MUSEYou owe me. Pay up. According to my accounts, you have...
CASUAL FRIENDSend lies to the people listed below....
THE AWARDS COMMITTEEThis is to notify you that--but what's the use?...
THE WISEThe world could fall to pieces with no notice....
UNCLE ALA chicken is a touchy creature....
THE OTHERSHere where we live the lines are down and the surprises build into snowbanks...
DANNYDusty Clinton Township kids making paper roosters and snowball...
SAMUEL RENSBERGER I am your grandfather's grandfather and through my wakeless sleep I dream...
OLD NEIGHBOREast across low muddy fields and behind the screening trees you can see...
THE WORM COUNCILWe call your attention to worms. Though sweeping ice age disaster...
THE HERONI flew in down by the round deep pond behind your house...
WITNESSI saw the largest moon ever rise huge bright yellow, sailing where it cared to...
Dear Eric,
The sad mailbox of my extreme youth, what did it ever deliver?
The only news was from far away, not from here, where news was
really needed. It was big, hollow, thoroughly metal. The shape
always reminded me a little of a house, and who would want to
live there? Rooted in a hunk of concrete below ground, it was
going nowhere. I thought that was a mistake: it should have
been free to roam out and come back with what we wanted--that
was what could have helped, the something-or-other from
somewhere else. There, I've contradicted myself.
The mailbox sat under a huge maple tree--huddled itself, I
should say. A limb with a spread of leaves reached over its
head like a blessing and assurance. High in the branches,
very still, I waited and waited. What did I expect would
arrive, and why did I want to surprise it? I don't know,
even now, I really don't. Could you tell me?
Occupant