PRINT September 1995


Mark Leyner's Hyper Text

I inhabit vast pavilions whose emptiness

is set ablaze by the vermillion sunset.

My menagerie of shaved animals is not open to the public.

But you may go to the special room

where every object is coated with Vaseline

and you may put something up your ass.

I will be down in half an hour.

Presently I am drugged and supine in my lichen-covered bathtub,

dazedly eating lichee-nut fondue

from a chafing dish of gurgling white chocolate at tub-side,

as a succession of anatomical freaks mount a klieg-lit proscenium

and perform for my entertainment.

A scorched breeze conveys the acridity of spent rocket fuel from

a launched garbage barge heading for the vast necropolis on Pluto,

loaded with the compacted corpses of executed insurgents.

It doesn’t get much better than this.

—Mark Leyner, Tooth Imprints on a Corn Dog, 1995

AS YOU KNOW, I’m not your average critic. Tina Brown regularly plies me with

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