by Richard Brautigan
This is a review of Michael ))McClure's(( GHOST TANTRAS and it begins with Michael standing in front of a full length mirror in his house on Downey Street, drawing GHOST TANTRAS from his back pocket as if it were a pistol made from language and fur, and he fires the pistol silently into the mirror and then replaces it in his back pocket.
Michael is wearing a pair of black Levi's and black boots that are fond of his feet and wears a white shirt with gentle stripes. The shirt is practically anonymous and pulls gently toward a distant past where the sun is shining and the wind is blowing down the street. One can almost hear a voice say, "Hell, I think I'll go and take a look around."
The book is an advance copy. Soon all the rest will come by boat from London. They are at sea now. The book is quite handsome with Michael on the cover wearing a lion mask. The mask has joined Michael's face. It is difficult to tell where the lion begins and Michael stops.
Michael draws the book again and bends slightly forward to send its reflection traveling back from the mirror. He stands up again, relaxes and puts the book back into his pants pocket. He exhales a deep breath.
He is not drawing the book rapidly. He's not trying for speed, but instead for accuracy, for grace of motion: the sign of the professional. He draws the book in onefullmotion and then returns it to his back pocket.
He has three fingers on the left side of the cover (which is Michael wearing a lion mask) and his thumb on the right side of the cover and his index finger under the cover.
It is a lazy day and half-children are playing in the street below. Their voices travel up to us like a piano with half its keys missing. This is the kind of piano that would have startled Mozart. He would have peeked around the corner.
Wild Dog? 18
July 17, 1965
![[toggle]](javascript:icntoggle('mod-Brautigan_Resourcesl2','module.png'); "[toggle]"){kind=small}