Summer 1986 • Vol. VIII No. 3 PoetryJuly 1, 1986 |

The Real

Years before I knew about the CaveOr those double-sexed science-fictionArchehumans of the Symposium,I first heard of him On a second-grade field trip tourOf my miserable hometown libraryWhere he was reduced to nothing But a small white bustOf marble (fake), a coupleOf terms (philosopher, Greek),And that singular-sounding name Alien as the name of a planet.It was awesome. I had no ideaWhat any of it meant. But if a man Could have his head turnedInto that smooth, undifferentiated objectOn a dusty oak stand in a cornerOf a room full of books, There had to be something behind it.Nights I tried to rememberPlato's face on that bust So I'd know him if I met him, or sawHis picture in the paper,But it was useless. There was nothingTo imagine him by, and I grieved The way you do when you forgetThe face of someone you care aboutOr deeply hate. Later on, he made me feel Like a fool for not knowingHe was older than Jesus, and justAs dead. Jesus I knew about,Since he was a

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T. R. Hummer’s tenth book of poems, Ephemeron, was published by LSU Press in November 2011; his second book of essays, Available Surfaces, will appear in University of Michigan Press’s Poets on Poetry Series in 2012. He lives in Phoenix, Arizona, and teaches at Arizona State University.

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Terrorism

By T. R. Hummer

Years before I knew about the CaveOr those double-sexed science-fictionArchehumans of the Symposium,I first heard of him On a second-grade field trip tourOf my miserable hometown libraryWhere he was reduced […]

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By T. R. Hummer

Years before I knew about the CaveOr those double-sexed science-fictionArchehumans of the Symposium,I first heard of him On a second-grade field trip tourOf my miserable hometown libraryWhere he was reduced […]

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