PASCALE

By Bruce Hodder   The rain was dripping from the winter trees in Pere Lachaise the day I found Pascale. Years before, she was my greatest crush, with those big sad eyes and all her hair piled up in front. Her high voice curled my toes. We talked a while. She asked how Paris was … Continue reading PASCALE

GATHERING OF THE TRIBES, 1967

By Bruce Hodder   There is confetti in your black hair, Allen Ginsberg. The sky is a dharmakaya blue. A young Jonas Mekas is filming you as you play your tiny Asian finger cymbals. Young people take each other’s hands and dance, eyes watching, fifty-one years later, on devices that haven’t been invented yet.