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james autio bio
chute man
letter from lapointe
david disarro bio
autumn in a graveyard
road poems
after the wake

Chute Many


James Autio    


A man hung from a tiny parachute

drops into the darkness of an umbrella stand,

and the strange thing is that

this takes place in your foyer near the shoes

and under hatrack. Should one of those toppers

slip from a nub as (letís face it) hats sometimes do,

the man might be forgotten, entombed

inside an empty death hollow.

Such a man might survive for some time

in the darkness, having no drink or grub, but

at a point the throat tires of the screams, the body

feels depleted and the mind,

once capable of such pretty feats,

succumbs to the heavy black.

And at that very moment, the tv

in the next room is playing reruns

of Ozzie Nelson asking Thorny

that question that seems to stump us all:

            Say youíre driving your car

and youíre supposed to

stop and wait at every red light. What if

you see a lantern?

And that little man who has long-since eaten

every last string and parachute shred

says You think YOUíVE got problems.





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