our bed as arid as the flat interior
of Spain. I love him just the same, the way
he combs his hair straight back, his hands
so womanly in shape. I'd be his whore,
but I am not as young as this new day,
this century we dance around;
I'd be his son, but I am not as sad
as dying is, as any son of his
inherits only death's queer finery;
right now, instead, I'm only going mad,
the dance and any meaning that it has
dissolving to the perfect thing he sees.
Does
Literary
Studies
have a
Future?
EUGENE GOODHEART
"A statement of broad significance,
a beacon, in fact, lighting up the
confusions of cultural controversy."
-MILLICENT BELL
"Extraordinarily balanced and fair
to friend and foe alike."
-MORRIS DICKSTEIN
At bookstores
THE UNIVERSITY OF WISCONSIN PRESS
