From a Notebook

When you’re splitting in two like John Berryman, remember there’s a third person, call him whatever you like–he’s the comic ironist you need for the long haul. Animals like him.

At the exhibit of Soviet underwear, the brassieres have wires, like farm tools. No further comment necessary.

I lived in Iowa for a time. I know several pig jokes. It’s easy in the Midwest to fall into a rut.

Once in New York City I heard a man drop his end of a plate glass window. It sounded like Stockhausen’s gramophone.

When I was six years old I was selected to care for the classroom’s hamster over Thanksgiving vacation. But the first night home my cat ate it. My first lesson in art: “Don’t worry,” my mother said, “We’ll go to the pet store and get another one–no one will ever know.” She was right.