The moon was about the town and the town was silent. The town was dreaming of its past. Old men were asleep with their mouths open. The moon was dreaming of nothing. A couple of writer's ghosts played on the swings behind the Catholic school. The moon saw Flannery O'Connor there. She was wearing a madras skirt. The other ghost was Kilgore Trout. He was wearing a worn out business suit and pushing the swing. He had a straw boater on his noggin. The boater was exactly moon colored when you looked. We sailed past in our car. Late Sunday evening, Iowa City...
S.K.
Ah, dear Flannery, from the land of my people, in fact, she lived in Millegeville, GA, about 50 miles from where I grew up. Tell me, Steve, do other Iowa Writer's Workshop alumni ghosts come for a visit as well?
Posted by: Georgia Whitney | July 06, 2009 at 12:35 PM
Hi Georgia: I suspect other Iowa City ghosts are there in the shadows, end of a summer's day--Tennessee Williams, playing a pocket comb; John Cheever scowling; Kurt Vonnegut explaining "Ice Nine" to Paul Engle. And there in their midst would be Antonin Dvorak who wrote his "New World Symphony" here. Ah, what a town...
SK
Posted by: Stephen Kuusisto | July 06, 2009 at 05:39 PM