FROM THIS SEASON'S ISSUE: Commencement 2014


SantaCon is Coming to Town

Nothing says happy holidays like a trip to the mall. Drooping garlands swaying to a decaying cassette player, bleary-eyed consumers everywhere, holiday spirit in the air; the most wonderful time of the year. In between stops and swipes, a child’s will and insistence drags his family onto a different kind of line, to a path striped with candy canes straight to the North Pole. Each step leaves an imprint in plastic snow, all leading toward the big man at the end. For every child, this time is the most important part of the holidays, the moment to speak face-to-face, man-to-man, with Santa Claus himself.

Labyrinth

I “Here the Minotaur roamed, and was fed by human victims.” – Thomas Bulfinch, The Age of Fable Here’s a story you’ve probably heard: A fresh-faced youth sets forth from Troezen on his way to Athens. Brave man that he is, consumed by the desire to prove himself, he takes the land route (more dangerous than the sea), encountering various brigands and marauders along the way. He defeats them all with ease, and arrives at Athens an established adventurer. He is instantly recognized by his father, the king. But all is not well.

Notes From
21 South Street

Twilight of the Libraries

In a famous episode of the television show, The Twilight Zone, Henry Bemis, “a bookish little man whose passion is the printed page but who is conspired against by…a world full of tongue-cluckers and the unrelenting hands of the clock,” miraculously survives a nuclear blast. The lone survivor, he despairs until he discovers that the entire book collection of the public library has been saved as well. Finally, the bibliophile can truly pursue his passion, uninterrupted by anything or anyone, with, as he declares “all the time I need, and all the time I want.” However, after arranging all of the books that he intends to read into perfectly ordered stacks, and situating himself on the steps of the library to begin his literary fete, his glasses slip from his nose and shatter on the stone.

Poetry

Aniseed in sand

Comes on and quickly: A thin worm slips sylphlike into the inner ear and spirals to line the cochlea in coil, rests, bloats and distends, widens cavity

Fiction

The Moth Garden

There was something about Peter’s clothes that attracted the moths. It was his scent, he thought. It had changed: there was some new chemical he released into the air. His most recent bedmates had commented on the aroma of his skin. “Like Sweet Tarts,” one had said. “Like dill,” said another.