The Cosmic Call


(An Unpublished Work)


The play, itself, closed even before it opened. The problem was that no actor could be found to handle the assignment.  Though billed as a one-act play; it actually consisted of, in fact, a single word.

The script read:


The Player. Cosmic Call.*


Though scores auditioned for the part no one could be found who could get it just right.


* The ‘Call’ should encompass that sound that the primeval superatom yawned at the instant the universe began to expand; God is but a whispered ululation of’it; it is the birth pangs of every mother and every birth; the sound of death; hope; striving; failure; the noise of love; the sound of a Black hole sucking in a new born star; a dandelion crying;  **; a cat purring; shadows singing; stars imploding; rocks breathing; the blind seeing their first sight & the deaf hearing their first sounds; the sound of thinking; smoke striving; rainbows singing; computers whirring, and the like.

**Editor:  word is missing from original manuscript

Retelling the Tale



As the tale is retold it changes in the retelling:

In a dream-vision the dreamer asks

of Demosthenes the same question

as in the former yet, this time, the

answer differs (however slightly):

“No, the fact of my genius did not

spring from the placement of the

pebbles in my mouth, rather, it arose

from the placement of the pebbles in

my mind.”




4 .2  (I)  (36:1) #595

Conditioned Reflex


They finally construct that perfect figure whose center is everywhere and circumference nowhere. Upon completion they decide that it is not bringing in a large enough profit and so convert it into a factory specializing in the fabrication of darkness.

None of the townspeople raise their voice for, naturally, they make up the bulk of the payroll.


mm.dd ( ) (nn.n) #nnn

At the Burial of a Dead Idea





The people came from miles around. A few had journeyed to pay their respects.  But most came out of curiosity or, more to the point, simply to gawk. They were rowdy and ill-mannered. They were foul-mouthed and foul of breath. They were hucksters hawking their wares and painted ladies selling their discount virtue.  They pressed in around the small plot where the minister was mindlessly mumbling the forgotten words of a forgotten prayer.  As it was lowered into the ground to its final resting place there was a tear or two among the mourners but mostly guffaws and loud hurrahs.




12.6 (II) (24:20)