BACKWARD
     
    
   
   
    
     
       
     
    
   
   
    
     
      By
      KENT
      J.
      BRUYNEEL
     
    
   
   
    
     
      Well,
      I
      would
      say,
      if
      we
      learned
      anything
      from
      the
      proceeding
      And
      I
      wanted
      to
      tell
      you
      to
      blink
      and
      draw
      some
      shapes
      for
     
     
      34
      pages,
      it
      is
      mostly
      that
      Jeff
      Coll
      is
      totally
      and
      uncontrolably
      you:
      They
      are
      Televisions
      with
      the
      screens
      kicked
      in.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      insane:
      The
      kind
      of
      madness
      that
      only
      comes
      around
      every
     
     
      once
      in
      awhile.
      And
      we
      are
      awe
      struck
      at
      its
      fiendishness,
      and
     
     
      we
      cower
      in
      its
      wake.
      And
      that
      I
      was
      right
      when
      I
      told
      you
      that
     
     
      that
      wasn’t
      your
      conventional
      David
      Weale
      type
      story.
      Long
     
     
      Way
      From
      The
      Road.
      And
      wait
      until
      you
      see
      Boxlor,
      if
      you
     
     
      haven’t
      seen
      it
      already.
      Because
      it
      is
      next.
      And
      before
      I
      cen-
     
     
      sored
      it,
      it
      was
      vulgar
      and
      so
      you
      have
      me
      to
      thank
      for
      that.
     
     
      Also
      I
      wanted
      to
      comment
      on
      the
      snow
      gathering
      at
      my
      feet,
     
     
      _
      where
      Bing
      Crosby
      used
      to
      be.
      And
      I
      wanted
      to
      share
      this
      son-
     
     
      net
      my
      friend
      wrote.
      He
      is
      dead.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      Last
      Night
      I
      Missed
      the
      Moment,
      Kent,
      to
      see
     
     
      If
      you
      were
      well
      in
      spirit
      and
      in
      time.
     
    

    
     
      Though
      I
      could
      plainly
      dream
      of
      tales
      to
      rhyme.
     
     
      I
      slept.
      Excuses...
      I
      have
      none
      to
      plea.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      To
      absence
      I
      was
      host
      and
      company.
     
    

    
     
      And
      later
      joined
      by
      uninvited
      crime
     
    

    
     
      (That’s
      not
      to
      say,
      “We
      think
      ourselves
      sublime’)
     
     
      The
      guests:
      young
      Errant,
      I,
      and
      Villainy.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      We
      lay
      upon
      the
      pillow
      soft
      and
      sweet,
     
     
      Acknowledging
      The
      Sleeper
      as
      we
      pass;
     
    

    
     
      Pale
      Ivory
      Gates,
      so
      true,
      our
      gaggle
      greet,
     
    

    
     
      An
      attic
      filled
      with
      wooden
      song
      stained
      brass.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      I
      hear
      your
      voice,
      but
      find
      abject
      Intent,
     
     
      Informing
      me
      that
      |
      just
      missed
      you
      Kent.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      And
      tell
      you
      it
      is
      about
      falling
      asleep
      when
      you
      are
      supposed
     
     
      to
      come
      and
      see
      me.
      And
      I
      wanted
      to
      show
      you,
      not
      to
      make
     
     
      you
      sad,
      but
      to
      show
      you
      that
      these
      words
      appeared
      in
      The
     
     
      Cadre
      when
      it
      was
      called
      The
      X-Press
      and
      they
      were
      written
     
     
      by
      Peter
      Greg
      Matheson;
      he
      was
      an
      excellent
      poet
      who
      knew
     
     
      the
      price
      of
      beauty.
      And
      now
      so
      do
      you.
      And,
      I
      wanted
      to
     
     
      show
      it
      to
      you
      to
      prove
      that
      beauty
      has
      been
      in
      these
      pages
      for
     
     
      longer
      than
      just
      this
      week.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      off
     
    
   
   
    
     
      This
      issue
      was
      to
      have
      stories
      about
      Christmas,
      so
      here
      are
      the
     
     
      lyrics
      to
      a
      song
      I
      wrote
      in
      Halifax
      called
      “How’d
      You
      Like
      To
     
     
      Go
      Downtown.”
      I
      would
      classify
      it
      as
      an
      All-Belgian
      Alcholic
     
     
      Rugby
      Team
      Fight
      Song:
     
    
   
   
    
     
      How’d
      you
      like
      to
      go
      downtown
      boys?
     
     
      How’d
      you
      like
      to
      go
      downtown?
     
     
      How’d
      you
      like
      to
      go
      downtown
      boys?
     
     
      Drink
      us
      up
      a
      couple
      of
      rounds.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      There’s
      beer
      and
      they’re
      ‘Il
      be
      women;
     
     
      theres
      bound
      to
      be
      some
      swimming;
     
     
      we
      might
      just
      get
      in
      some
      sinning;
     
    

    
     
      If
      we
      could
      just
      go
      downtown.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      How’d
      you
      like
      to
      go
      downtown
      boys?
     
     
      How'd
      you
      like
      to
      go
      downtown?
     
     
      How’d
      you
      like
      to
      go
      downtown
      boys?
     
     
      How’d
      you
      like
      to
      go
      downtown?
     
     
      Drink
      us
      up
      a
      couple
      of
      rounds.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      On
      the
      blue
      barn
      theres
      a
      sign,
      lady,
     
     
      says
      “No
      Parking
      Anytime’
     
     
      but
      I
      know
      that
      that
      aint
      true
      baby,
     
     
      I
      park
      there
      all
      the
      time.
     
     
      How’d
      you
      like
      to
      go
      downtown
      boys?
     
     
      How’d
      you
      like
      to
      go
      downtown?
     
     
      ‘How’d
      you
      like
      to
      go
      downtown
      boys?
     
     
      How’d
      you
      like
      to
      go
      downtown
      boys,
     
     
      drink
      us
      up
      a
      couple
      of
      rounds.