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28 the minnesota review Ross Talarico Love Poem Even the graffiti blackboard In the John Of the dingiest bar in town Is so scratched and battered I can't write Or make-out a thing. It is A legitimate blankness We create, purposely, to Scratch out Our inner-most desires, Secretly, while pissing, For any inebriated stranger To ponder, And even then the language Appears exotic, intranslatable, The effort futile. How do I convince you, What's your name, That my fantasies needn't be written On the public walls Of our architectural whims, but simply Agreed upon By two people Who haven't touched the bare hips Of somebody else In three or four weeks. At least. Listen. I don't care How fervently we suck the life Out of each other, Or how often, or with whom. There's a simpler request; 29 talarico On the vast wall we stare into I write, talk to me. When the wind blows, and the voice Carries beyond itself, The air is filled with indecencies. And who's to say why we are happy. TABLOID A Review of Mass Culture and Everyday Life Number 6 Summer-Fall 1982 Special Issue on Music$1.75 ROCK AND THE POLITICS OF LEISURE: ON SIMON FRITH AND ELLEN WILLIS by The TABLOID Collective * GRATEFULLY DEADICATED: A PRAISE POEM by Ed Cohen * FLIP SIDE: WOMEN'S MUSIC IN AMERICA by The Emmenagogue Sisters * RAMBLING WITH FRED FRITH: An interview by Bob Buika * SUBCULTURES AND RESISTANCE: THREE REVIEWS * THE PSYCHOPATHOLOGY OF EVERYDAY PUNK by Hugh Gurling * TERKEL'S TALKING BLUES: PART Il by Jon Spayde * SQUIBS on OPERA. JAZZERCISE, and DEADHEAD FEMINISTS. From P.O. Box 3243. Stanford. CA 94305 Subscriptions for 3 issues: $6, U.S.; $11. Non-U.S.; $15 Institutions; $25, Angels. ...


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