What's Jack Spicer?

April Is the Cruelest Month ®

COMING ATTRACTIONS™

While it's neither my purpose nor pleasure to help to publicize books from the media conglomerates, my feathers are sweating so I have to mention Tomaž Šalamun's The Book for My Brother, translated by Joshua Beckman, Christopher Merrill, Anselm Hollo, et al., coming in April from Harcourt, Inc. (formerly Harcourt Brace, now better known to the world, I should think, as Reed Elsevier). Some will note this jacket design's conspicuous resemblance to Harcourt's earlier Šalamun collection, Feast — ignominiously remaindered and never issued in paperback. You wonder.

From book publishers:

University of California Press will publish Joshua Clover's second book, which he has finally pulled together, The Totality for Kids. He preens, he's pretentious. I can't help liking him.

Sarah Manguso's first book earned her lots of attention, despite her not belonging to any known cliques (prosings for Eggers, Inc. aside, and in any case those are all good). Manguso's deft and imaginative, and her recent work's only gotten stranger and stronger, if I know anything. Her new book Siste Viator to be published by Four Way Books, jacket TK.

Those of us who thought Jeff would be in school forever, it turns out, were right.

He's doing well. So's his heir. I miss him, miss him, miss him.

Jeff probably misses you too. Write him. Aroy mak!

Silliman picked up on The Page

(I could be the very last to know about this.)

.

Two months ago I hadn't heard of him.

It disturbs me not to see trees,
not a tree here anywhere
that doesn't look like
it's already dead,
that wouldn't burn like brandy
despite its leaves.

I went shopping.

Click if you're isolated, cloistered,
under house arrest, or agoraphobic.


(Otherwise please ask your bookseller.)

POETRY THAT GOES TOO FAR

Erm, not here.

world's best used bookstore . . . ?

If you're ever in the continental United States, please consider a trip to North Hatfield, Massachusetts, to visit Robert Willig's peerless Troubadour Books. Thirty thousand spectacular volumes — no mind-numbingly familiar remainders, no short commons, nothing uninspired or uninspiring. Everything very reasonably priced. The books you know, dream of, and can't have dreamt of. A jaw-dropping collection of 20th- and 21st-century poetry. Incredible.

1-900565-25-0

Finally got this book, after trying three other booksellers online, some of them my beast friends, who claimed to have it — but, erm, didn't really have it.

Props to Jessica's Biscuit Cookbooks of Newton Highlands, Massachusetts, commonwealth of my heart.

Just in time for my birthday.

Lucky me.

Described by his manager in 1964 as having "genius problems."
Admired and loved and missed and mourned for his brutal upper lip, songwriting, and rhythm-guitar playing.
Had, said Robyn Hitchcock, "a tear-stained soul."
In later life, plagued by joylessness, the FBI, alcohol, the INS, UFOs, numerology, and anorexia.

Toast Sandwiches

IN THE quiet of an empty shop Arthur and Harold sat munching their sandwiches and discussing the solitude of their lives.

"I'll tell you, Harold," said Arthur who was a larger though not prettier sparrow than his friend, "this is a most beautiful day."

Harold smiled through his chomping beak. "Yes. Yes," he said, swallowing.

"And these sandwich lunches are something tremendous," Arthur beamed.

"It's the toasted bread," Arthur explained as he was the little pretty one who understood things so well. "Previously we ate our meats and cheeses on squishy soft white bread, and our midafternoon get-togethers had been simply the sharing of nourishment. But toasted bread has made this something different!"

"All I know," said Arthur who understood in his own way, "is that now my Swiss on rye goes 'crunch, crunch' between my large ugly beak!" He giggled in glee. "It makes me so happy, my feathers sweat!"

The two birds burst out singing and laughing rather loudly, though it was of no great concern as the restaurant was nearly empty. In their merriment Harold proposed a toast sandwich, it being a slice of toast between two slices of toast. Arthur took to this immediately and almost burst with excitement. They called the waiter over, a frog who hopped over sheepishly.

"What can I do for you today, sirs?" he asked. "Isn't everything all right?"

"It's splendid," Arthur assured him. "It's just that my dear friend across the table from me who just happens to be my brother-in-law has just had a marvelous idea. Harold, you explain."

The smaller, prettier sparrow who was really a first cousin nonetheless smiled at the recognition. "Paul," he said to the waiter whose given name was Paul because all frogs were called either Paul or Paula but never Pauline, "we would be grateful if you could bring to us each a toast sandwich!"

The waiter stood confused. "Hey Paul!" he called to the cook who was also a frog. "Ever hear of a toast sandwich?"

"I can explain," Harold interrupted because he was very good at both. "We would like a slice of toast sandwiched between two other slices of toast." Arthur's wings were dripping with perspiration.

"Wait a minute," Paul the waiter-frog said. "What you're asking for is a toast sandwich?"

"Yes!" the wiggling sparrows exclaimed.

"A toast sandwich on toast, correct?"

The birds nodded wildly.

Paul the waiter-frog puffed his throat out in exasperation. "In other words," he said, "you'd like me to bring you six slices of toast on two plates piled three high. Yes?"

Arthur and Harold pointed their beaks down in embarrassment. "Yes, please," they answered meekly.

Grinning, the waiter hopped to the kitchen which was soon filled with a whooping laughter.

Arthur fidgeted angrily in his seat. "Hop," he muttered bitterly. "All they do is hop around all day calling each other Paul and eating flies. 'Ribbit. Ribbit.' Can a frog soar gracefully across the skies?"

Harold shushed him. "Here come the sandwiches," he said.

Do you suffer from Sore Eyes, Groovy Forehead, or Curly Hair?

Somebody Hold Him

My dear friend Tom Coburn, managing editor and publisher of the West Springfield Record. Tom's released three superb CDs, none of which you can find anywhere. But if you meet Tom, he'll give you one.