Woessner, Warren

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DRIVING TO SAUK CITYThis land won't lie downlike a nice dog after a beating.It keeps coming back.Hot. Cold. Empty.Men wear out,take their families into town for good.The skeleton of a Lutheran church gathers a congregation of young maples. The graveyard has stopped growing and gone to seed.Brick walls last a long time even by themselves.The windmill still turnsbut someone pulled up the pipeand shot the cistern full of holes.—  Warren WoessnerMadison WICLOUD 9he's really not a bad sortbut when I'm in the lowest and darkest ofpitshe always phones, and in a most cheerful voice he'll ask:"how ya doin', buddy?"and I'll have the same answer forhim;"I'm fucked, can't find my way out.""oh, that's too bad. I'm on cloud 9. need somebody to drink with?""no, it's all right.""well, remember my number, buddy. give me a call sometime.""sure. "I hang up and look at the phone, it's light green.if I can ever figure when that son of a bitchcomes down off his speedI'll dump him straight into hiscoffin.78

Driving to Sauk City

http://ddd.uab.cat/pub/wormwood/wormwood_a1976v16n2i62/wormwood_a1976v16n2i62p78.pdf

Driving to Sauk City

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