ANGEL'S FLIGHT vol. 5, number 1 ./ ' Fall1979-Spring 1980 ANGEL'S FLIGHT is published twice yearly , in December and May. To ensure consideration for an upcoming issue send Mss . at least one month prior to publication date. All Mss. should be accompanied by a self -addressed stamped envelope Manuscripts and correspondence should be sent to: ANGEL'S FLIGHT c/ o CSUN English Department 18111 Nordhoff Street Northridge, CA 90330 Published by ANGEL'S FLIGHT with the cooperation of the California State University, Northridge, English Department and funded by Instructionally Related Activities, CSUN. All Copyrights revert back to Author or Illustrator upon publication. No material may be copied , in whole or in part, without express writ­ ten permission of the Author, Illustrator, or their bona fid e represent­ atives. Cover photo courtesy of Security Pacific National Bank Victor R. Plukas, Bank Historian Copyright 1980 ANGEL'S FLIGHT ANGEL'S FLIGHT Staff Editor Louis Di Giacomo M anaging Editor donna Rozelle Poetry Editor Fiction Editor Maria La Ganga De nnis Anderson Secretary / Treasurer Lisa Carlson Editorial A ssistants De lla Farre n Joe Nardoni Ginny Hare Dort/10 Weste rb eck Mary Louise Rawn Carol Drotman The Editors w ish to thank • *Dr. Arthur E . Lane w hose presence * • has made us all better Table of Contents Walton's Thumb 8 Roommates Terence Martin 9 1953 Greg Boyd 11 Trying My Hand at Business Donna Beckman 12 Perkins Family Picnic at the Hollywood Bowl 18 found love (found poem) Arthur Lane 19 The Ari Poems Scott Bowdan 21 The only thing around here 23 Everyman in magic's icongraphy 24 three birds & a crick~t Gary Greenberg 25 Rights Dennis Anderson 26 Fairy Tale 31 The Red Ledge 33 False Apocalypse David Trinidad 35 Mysteries of Afternoon and Evening 39 The Convict 40 With Child 41 Philosophy and the Sunday Funnies 42 Premonition 43 Lilith 43 Love Poems 44 Occupation 44 Don J. 45 Names of Children 46 A Vision 47 Oblivion 48 Fear: The Garden 49 The Ruin: A Visit 50 The World in the Evening Rachel Sherwood 51 Desert Weekend Mike Meyer 52 Argument Charlotte A. Hoyt 59 Why Do You Ask Carol Stager 60 Absurd 61 T hose Hippies Up at Brookings H art Schulz 62 this morning's ghost 63 ni ght prisms Bob Tomli nson 65 The Swin g 67 Fin al Season 68 Desert Fruit De ll a Farre n 69 T he Ha nged Man J oe Nardo ni 70 the californi a condor peter cashorali 77 Dear Desperate Bill y Co ll ins 78 Rumors and the Awful Truth 79 The Night Ca n Be Lo nger Than Even Your G ri ef Fra nces Wolf 80 Compline Margaret Williams 81 This issue of Angel's Flight is dedicated to the memory of Rachel Sherwood 1954-1979 Terence Martin Walton's Thumb "Be quiet and go a-angling ." - Izaak Walton , The Compleat Angler Be patient until the evening distances the drone of the last boat. Wait while flies scramble like commuters for the final shafts of sun . When your hand rises in its shadow Present the lure It flutters into life dances on th e lake disappears like a word cast upon sil ence. 8 Terence Martin Roommates Due to a severe housing shortage Dracula and Narcissus, unable To get work, have become Roomates, The Count sleeps throughout The day, whil e his Greek friend Spends his time staring into the Mirror . But lately, Narcissus Has had the disturbing feeling That the face in the mirror Isn't really his own . No matter How long he stares into its depths He can't seem to make it real. Familiar, yes. But difficult. In fact , The opposite of what it should be. Whenever he frowns, his double Seems to grin like a fiend , The corners of the mouth Breaking into a rictus Of uncontrolled laughter and When Narcissus smiles, his Counterpart grimaces In a vaguely uneasy way. So he stands, sometimes For hours, trying to figure it out. Dracula has begun to notice His friend's preoccupation , And now, late at night The caped man slips into The bathroom to see what obsesses The Greek to such a degree. But he doesn't see what the problem is. 9 There is nothing, in fact , In the mirror. Nothing but The room where hi s face Should be, only the sad Bodies of objects, the chair Getting soft at the middle, The comb, lying o n its side, Sprouting grey hair like an old man . Even the chrome fixtures Refuse to acknowledge him. Now The roommates have begun To resent each other. They spend Hours arguing. Each believes His own situation is worse. The Transylvanian feels he deserves Some sort of identity, that even pain Is an improvement over immortality. The Greek is sick of seeing Exactly what he is not. Their lights burn late into the night. From their rooms, the sounds of desperate Voices, and of glass breaking. 10 Greg Boyd 1953 it's 1953 somewhere there's a man sitt ing on the edge of a bed , face in the shadows smoking. a strand of blond hair crosses the shadow. she's moaning through her lipstick. i can't stand how it's all been done before . 11 Donna Beckman Trying My Hand At Business Being poor was something I never expected. My father was a used car dealer and I was married to an aerospace engineer. When I was lit ­ tle my parents told me stories about the Depression - how people had to wait on line for soup. After a while I stopped li ste ning. The stories were always the same, and the Depression sounded boring. College didn't teach me how to be poor. In Economics we defined poverty. In psychology we learned how economic deprivation affects the psyche. In English classes we read Charles Dicke ns. I was studying when the phone rang. It was Melanie: she was coming over. I wondered why she was visitin g me in the m orning. Before I went back to school, we saw each other almost every day. Now we kept in touch by phone. I was serious about getting my degree. I considered trying my hand at business but my children were too young for me to go to work full time , so aft er my divorce 1 went back to coll ege. Melanie knew all about how to be poor. She had been divorced for three years and she was resuming her career as an actress. "You have to use what you've got," she told me over and over. Melanie was the one who helped me fill o ut the food stamp application in Spanish. S he could write checks before she deposited money to cover them and they never bounced. She knew how to collect une mployment a nd work at the same time. Melanie's latest stint was at the Rub 'em Good Massage Parlor. It was on Lankershim Boulevard , between a Laundromat and a Win­ chell's Ho use of Do-Nuts. She kept me abreast of the highlights. lik e the midget who had bullet scars down his back. The last tim e she visited me, she told me that a cli ent turned over with a hard-on a nd of­ fered her $15.00 to make the massage total. She said yes, and a new business exploded into being Morning was not the usual time for a visit from Melanie. By 10 a.m. she was usually at the Parlor up to her elbows in baby oi l. The slam of my back door announced her arrival. Melanie always came in without knocking. I found her in the kitchen. First she filled my kettle , then she began to fo ld my laundry. "Why aren't you at work?" I asked. 12 " Oh hi. I've quit," she answered. She reached into her purse and pulled out a lid. I gasp ed . " Where did you get that?'' " A woman is only poor if she wants to be.'' M elanie replied . "But no one wants to be ." I protested. " Good, I'm glad to hear you say it. I've got a propositi on for you. I'm starting m y own business with m y full massage cli ents from Rub 'Em Good. Why sh ould I give them a cut of w hat I ea rn with my own two hands. " " Listen , M elanie. I'm not interested in business. I hate capitalism , anyway . I agree w ith M arx that it is essen tially corrupt. " M elanie glared at m e. "You are full of shit," she said. " I want you to be m y p artner. " " And do w hat?" " H andle the overflow." " M elanie, isn't it illegal? Who would take care of m y kids if I went to jail?" I asked. " W e won't do any poli cemen, " M elanie answered . " I'm just not the type," I protested. M elanie could get away with it. She could walk in high heels w ithout breaking her ankle. She looked good w ithout a bra. " Y ou do all ri ght in bars ... when you want to," M elanie sa id. "Com e on , help me o ut. I'll m ake you a full partner." M elanie rolled a joint and p assed it to m e to light. She looked as pure and wholesome as she had in high sc hool. H er lo ng blond hair shone, her skin was tanned .