Sunday, July 12, 2015
Art&Life
together, Me and Mamie O'Rourke
He was an old New Yorker-type story writer.
Light allusions to hidden tragedies, all indirectly told.
Until his approaching death, when things flooded.
We avoided him then.
When meat and bones assert, some grow fearful.
An e-book publisher wants to do his life works...
not many K’s or M‘s, or whatever, there.
It’s left to the estate to negotiate, and they
can’t get the act together. Each family member
has lingering hurts, but none spoken of just yet.
Labels: indirection, New Yorker Story, sophistication, story telling.
