California State University (CSU): Open Journal Systems

Boyd, Greg

T he Mas ked 
Ba l l  
Greg Boyd 
omeone in red heels and nails dances past, giggling 
through the nout of a pig. A wolf bows and whispers in  
her ear, offers a white-gloved hand. Glasses, nose, and 
moustache.forgets to laugh when he pills a drink on his 
tight pants. Sequins and cat whiskers wishes she had 
taken dance lessons and lost weight. The band affects a 
pirate crew with eye patches. Children peek down from 
the stairs, mice in white pyjamas, up past their bedtime. 
Their parents, the Lone Ranger and Tonto, aren't speak­
ing. 
Out back a plump Wonder Woman skinny dips in  
the swimming pool. Frankenstein strips and joins her, 
uncovering a monstrous secret. A bald Superman passes 
out by the bushes. Batman and Robin lock themselves in 
the bathroom. Dracula waits his turn. 
Somewhere in the black tub of lights below the hills 
of Hollywood, the Keystone Cops are crusing. 
27 


English

The Masked Ball

Review, Northridge

I Dated Jane Austen: Featuring an interview with T. Coraghessan Boyle

Newell, Michael

To\Nns O n  H i l ls 
Michael Newell 
i know the feel of  towns on hills 
sad as fairy tales. 
i've felt their air before: 
wind wrapping autumn streets in leaves, 
people crossing red lights haloed and sweating 
in chill Puget fog. 
in a hillside deserted park, 
a windblown rain-rusted merry-go-round; 
my father runs pushing four sons a daughter 
in shadow of Catholic Church. 
i forget why i'm here, that tomorrow i leave: 
sixteen hours back by Greyhound to L.A. 
longing for hook-handed man across the aisle 
with red-white-and-blue-tatoo 
to put out his cigarette 
so i can sleep. 
7 8  


Towns On Hills

Hempel, Wes

Last Vi s i t Ho me 
Wes Hempel 
My parents are ly ing in  thei r  house 
Down th is  stretch of street now a sea 
of walnut  leaves the s idewalk  turns 
to d i rt beneath my .feet becoming bare 
some part of me eager and smal l  
(did I imag ine them fal l i ng  
out  of  planes 
cross ing center div iders 
left s lumped on the rug 
by a man in a stocking?) 
When I look at the s ky it parts 
above the corner lamps buzz ing on 
and whole m i n utes l i ke years 
over the reach of yel low g rass 
strang l ing wi ld vi nes choking 
honeysuckle and ivy on these trees 
When there is  no train 
I hear its d istant wai l  
c l i m b  the g abled roof 
the s ma l l  of my back 
f lush agai nst the ch imney 
see its th i n  g rey p lume 
and houses in the neigh borhood 
where it is  always Autumn 
1 8  
NORTHRIDGE REVIEW 
The tangled roots beneath the trunk 
of that oak in the schoolyard where 
I hunched that remarkable Fall over 
blue paper sheets against my knees 
scribbling secret messages 
Then left them 
stabbed through twigs 
astonishing blue leaves 
for you to find 
Dear Frances 
tonight beside this broken sky 
1 almost remember what they said 
19 


Last Visit Home

Webster, Laura

Beautiful Men I\u27ve Known

Interview with E. K. Healy: Featuring Two Works

Klein, Charles

She Wears Gl asses To Bed 
She wou ld  l ive with a congregation 
of cats if she wasn't al lerg ic .  
She used to read a lot  more 
but the l ight f inal ly affected her 
Charles Klein 
so now she wears coke bottles with contacts 
and saves for a big magnifying glass. 
Aunt Hanna taught her to knit so even though 
her dresses have seen better days 
she has some outlandish sweaters 
�tudents have yet to laugh at. 
Style had never been her strong poi nt .  
Although she can't add two numbers together 
she can recite Eur ipides in clari net tones 
and knows Prince Ham let personal ly.  
Her cousi n from u pper sta�e wishes 
she wou ld move to a safer bui lding 
and even has a man, final ly, for her. 
She told h im,  " . . .  but she has a wonderful personal ity." 
But anywhere else is  too far from the m useums 
and her other catacombs. 
Across the street they sel l  the New York Ti mes 
and she enjoys correcting the cross words. 
She's heard Merv Griffin has a lovely voice 
but he's on far too I ate for her. 
She's gone by 7 o'clock 
having eaten her cold sal mon and watered the cactus 
and fallen asleep with Thoreau .  
7 


She Wears Glasses To Bed

Pearson, Marlene

Divorce 
Awarded 1984-1985 Rachel Sherwood Poetry Prize 
Marlene Pearson 
He knocked on my door with i ron knuckles and a plaster smi le, 
expla in i ng: 
"I 'm leaving/ marriage ru in ing  my job/ you never do what 1/ 
can't keep my bushes tri mmed in the yard/ and you know 
how I need sex/ got to d ivorce. "  
I shook m y  head. I t  turned bru i se green real iz ing something.  
I t  fel l  off and landed on the desk near my typewriter. 
My right arm flew out the wi ndow in rage. 
"sel l  houses/ you half/ we' l l  spl it d ishessheetstvcouch ­
grubby anyway/ stuff you never would replace."  
My stomach became stone, dropped to the floor, 
rolled down the hal l  and out i nto the street, resting 
i n  the cool tr ickle of the gutter. 
An ear left my severed head and began typing poetry. 
" I 'm keeping/ i nvestments i mportant to me/ don't touch 
my profits/ But Anna is  -" 
The other ear joi ned and they typed louder. 
"my main concern/ lovely ch i ld/ support 
one year/ that's al l . "  
Spiders poured from my vagina down to the floor 
weaving secrets in red, then crawled away 
and h id among the books in the case. 
" I  can't stay/ so you go - final decision/ 
I speak calm ly/ expect you to do the same. "  
M y  feet stood there, just toes stiffening 
l i ke I'd been stand ing on ice for a long t ime.  
6 7  
NORTHRIDGE REVIEW 
The newly typed page began chanti ng sounds 
he had never heard before. He l i stened. 
Smoke rose from h i s  ears, mouth, privates. 
He fel l  i n  a heap of ashes. 
H i s  head rested l i ke a d u l l  marble on top, 
glazed eyes looking up.  
My left arm slammed the door. My head yel led : 
feed the cats when you get u p, 
they're scratch ing at the w indow. 
They've knocked over you r  geran i u m .  
I went to gather u p  the parts of me. 
68 


Divorce

Meyers, Craig W.

Curve 
Craig W. Myers 
the way the eye slips across a breast, half-hidden 
by dusk, the desert hill smoothed 
by sunset and the traU 
falling off the Milky Way 
or the empty hammock spanning the time between two trees 
8 


Curve

Mohr, Bill

Substitute Teacher 
Bill Mohr 
I 
liked that movie for one and only one reason. 1 knew it was 
my brain that made Frankenstein's monster a sweet person. 
You have to identify w.ith something in a movie. That brain 
is what keeps the movie going. Without it, the lightning storm 
is just another long night at the dog pound down the street. 
But my brain, which seems to be used only because it's conve­
nient, is actually the lucky choice, or a case of no choice being 
perfect timing. And I'm not bragging. 
A lot of brains, if given a second chance at being a brain, 
wouldn't  know what to do. They'd stare at the first thing they 
remembered seeing before, trying to put the story back together 
again. But my brain knew that it was a different game now, 
different rules, and I was going to have to improvise. 
It didn't bother me that my life was on the line the second time 
around. That's why I had a big advantage at dying so quickly 
the first time. Most people don't know how to gamble - they 
panic when they bet. They're guessing. But a brain like mine 
knows that the secret is whether or not you should trust your 
first hunch. 
My brain knew that Frankenstein's first hunch was a dumb 
move. He never should've put me in an adult body. A six year 
old or a three year old, that would've been perfect. There's no 
way they could've fooled me then. Growing up, I would've 
known their tricks. For quite a few years, I tried to be a good 
boy. My father taught me the intricacies of ovens and soon I 
invented new ways of making bread rise. He wanted me to tell 
him my secrets, but I didn' t  love him that much. 
Certain things can't be disguised. Or imagined. Each time I see 
the movie I'm more convinced. Maybe you don't believe me, 
but I've never met anybody else who thought it was his brain. 
Hey, and I know a lot of words too. They never give me the 
lines which show the extent of my vocabulary. Maybe you've 
noticed that so far I haven't mispronounced a single word. Or 
stumbled once, even though this audition is a cold reading. 
I'm not perfect. I'm not claiming I'm perfect. You ever heard 
36 
NORTHRIDGE REVIEW 
the expression - no such thing as a stupid question. Welding 
class, air-conditioning repair class. They encourage you to ask 
stupid questions so they have something to tell the other 
teachers eating lunch. And this is true. I know because I taught 
for a while. A substitute teacher. You know, a warm body. The 
kids liked me. You can't fool kids. That's what I liked about 
them. They knew who I was and not one of them ever squealed. 
I never had a single note from the principal's office: "Will the 
substitute teacher in room six please leave the smartest student 
in charge and report to my office immediately. " The kids knew 
and they didn't need to brag about it. So I'm saving my money 
and when I have enough, I'm going to take some time off, 
pump iron, repair my motorcycle, and, best of all, learn to play 
music. You know I hear music but I can't remember it very 
long. It's not music that has words - it's just melodies and I 
hear them a few times, but then anything can distract me and 
I forget it. And I know that I' m not stealing it. It's not somebody 
else's music. It' s something I'm hearing for the first time. From 
another world I believe. But then again, I've had better luck 
than you, so I could understand it if you don't believe. This is 
the way I like it. It's a real melody, not a fake one. 
The only important question left is how a brain works - how 
it identifies what's important and what's not important. And to 
do that, I have to have a real brain to work with. That's why 
I brought this brain along with me to show you how much 
progress we've made in understanding exactly where these 
connections get made. This is the happiest frontier, the non 
plus ultra of wilderness. Connections isn't really the exact word 
I want, just as we're not really certain - the Doctor and I ­
how each area manages to enjoy - tolerate! - the existence 
of so many other areas in the brain. It's hard to believe how 
many solitary obsessions the brain possesses. Right now, for 
instance, at a spot smaller than the very tip of a eat's claw, is 
a - how does he put it - a peninsula in the brain that attempts 
to control every sexual memory of an organism. These 
memories are not the production of the brain although the 
brain does use them in the production of other memories. 
Now in front is a wad about the size of a rolled-up band-aid 
and this is the central opinion storage area. This is each brain's 
opinion of all the brains that this brain has encountered. The 
rankings from Hall of Fame to Bush League, from the subtly 
certain to the deceitful. No brain puts itself in last place. Not 
even a suicide. Most suicides put themselves in first place. That's 
why they volunteer to stop thinking. That shows Dr. F. fucked 
up. He used the foot of a suicide. Haven't  you noticed how 
37 
Mohr/Substitute Teacher 
this foot has been twitching the whole time l;ve been talking. 
This foot remembers that the brain said jump. And it was the 
other foot that moved. A little off-balance and you don't get a 
second chance. 
You can' t understand how difficult it is to talk about your own 
brain this intimately - let alone someone else's. And I am shy. 
That much is known about me which is true. 1 can overcome 
it for brief periods. Sometimes I can teach three or four days 
in a row. At different schools of course. That's one of the subtle 
advantages of being a substitute. 
38 


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