Newspapers / University of North Carolina … / Feb. 28, 1980, edition 1 / Page 17
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17 February 28, 1980 17 Somethinq Else I Had in Mind No, not the clench-browed scholar's solitude tonight I want, but record players and ice cubes & bourbon in glasses to burn the mind dean of thought, and fine fever dancing with a bare backed black satin waisted someone you can fall in love with or say you have, even if it isn't so. Sam McMillan softhidden the clouds retum rolling wonders on the breath of God silverrainbow sun plays a melody of light on earth and upwards through the grey Greypatchhighspringrainships skip over the mountains and roll waterfleet churning itself in the ageless moisture sundance wetdance celebration of the wind Sparky Banks sirens and squeaking raincoats. In my samsonite chair / remembered (my dream) escaping an island of boneless horrors, the stiff white grass in that mea dow frosted by tiie perverse alchemy of mad loveless scientists, and in fear / was severed from the vision of the priest and ele vated behind my dosed eyes to far below me view the winking lights of hydroelectric plants, prisons and circuses, the flickering bonfires of railroad hobo camps, the spastic hotel neons blazing in the occult cavern of night where Baudelaire and Flaubert the priest are cutting up the intimate tissue of this journal in their own mad autopsy of love. Are we intimate? Chris Blake Zachory Taylor Zachory Taylor, you son-of-a-^bitch, / keep getting your phone calls, which is of course not your, but the Bell Systems, fault, although it changes nothing. Why did you move or disconnect? Were you too poor, too private, too uneasy to answer your phone number, which I, now you, must pick up and explain who this is and what / know of you. And / know nothing of you: not your race, sex, age, religion, occupation, address, height or new number. / have no dues to go on except your old listing, our coincidentally same number. So, please excuse me while / talk rude and lewd to polite voices who ask do you know his new number or do you know where / can reach him, because I'm your nasty answering service insulting everyone the best / can to keep them guessing and off our heels. Wm. Timmerman photos by Jill Boniske
University of North Carolina at Asheville Student Newspaper
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Feb. 28, 1980, edition 1
17
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