Rhododendrons by Jody Brown

 

I am not a liar. If I claim to be a storyteller it’s not the same as claiming to be a liar. Sometimes my prose is very effective. Prose is funny. Not funny as in ha ha funny, but you know what I mean.

Space is blue and birds move in it. Sometimes what I move in I tell is a bird. I tell a bird is something else and it’s a lie. But bird is some days as close as I can get. Sometimes I have trouble describing. Tell me how to describe. I am all in darkness. Tell me how to describe. Tell me. Tell. Describe. Describe from the tree in Telegraph Hill the Bay. From the tree in Telegraph Hill the Bay is sometimes indistinguishable from the sky except that the Bay is rippled like cloth. In the tree on Telegraph Hill islands of light are swimming on the grass; they have fallen through the trees.

 

New York Tyrant Vol. I No. III