From the daily archives:
Momento Mori
Her box of whipstitched cardboard open,
lonesome ancestral weft, it allows me to see
Ma in the tall pasture.
We played games with sticks, toys chipped from slate,
burlap sacks, fish like glass, antique marbles,
dogwood chalices, ornate grapes.
On the backyard block Pa cut off chickens’ heads.
Bodies in entrechats around the woodhouse,
their bloody necks spewed.
OK, kids. Monday is here. And today’s Body of Work lets fly that tantalizing warning of old: don’t try this at home. To be sure, what is dangerous, or unknown, spurs interesting literature. But sometimes it’s up to the foolhardy to demonstrate what is and what is not suitable for average adults. To wit: James Frey, chasing the dollar bills that dance across his brain, is writing young adult science fiction. An esteemed Creative Writing prof from the New School jumped ship and currently is spinning goat milk in Vermont. A Hemingway spawn republishes A Moveable Feast, the Examiner discusses the virtues of drinking while reading, music writer John Faber writes his swan song, the UFC brands its version of knock ‘em dead novels, and finally, in an effort to right what we may have wronged, we issue balance among the sexes, as the Times Higher Education analyzes a book about the modern woman. Happy reading. — Kevin Murphy
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