Fissured Tongue Series
GUYS I KNEW IN COLLEGE
1962-1966
by Claude Clayton Smith
Fissured Tongue Series Vol VII | May 2026
1962-1966
by Claude Clayton Smith
Fissured Tongue Series Vol VII | May 2026
GUYS I KNEW IN COLLEGE
1962-1966
1962-1966
There is a kind of character in thy life,
That to the observer doth thy history
Fully unfold.
—Measure for Measure: I, 1.
That to the observer doth thy history
Fully unfold.
—Measure for Measure: I, 1.
DAUCHY tucked his tee-shirts into his whitey-tighties. Dinwoody looked like a duck, so we called
him “Duck.” Ojo was from Nigeria. Luke lived on Diamond Head. Thompson had a Corvette.
Wilson drove a TR4. Gernert got arrested for mooning. Sloane screwed a girl in the library elevator.
McKenzie was the New England heavyweight wrestling champion. Van Kennen won the national
championship in the 50-meter free-style. Burfort was a marathoner. Reiss organized the first All-
Collegiate National Skateboarding Competition. Boynton rewired the radio station. Faerber DJ’d for
seventy-two hours straight. Chorba’s on-air name was “Gary Soul.” McMillan brought the Chiffons
to Fall House Parties. Zetterburg organized Spring Sing. Berger flunked out second semester. Stelle
was so big his golf bag looked like a quiver of arrows. Brundidge married a Black girl. Spoehr had to
get married. Cosell was Howard’s nephew. Darius was Brubeck’s son. Davenport would father
Lindsay. Lilly stood to inherit a pharmacy. Rich was blind. Sehlinger died beneath his VW.
Fluegelman jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge. Hauser’s parents went down in that plane over
Tenerife. Richter sold engagement rings. Bensinger didn’t drink. Carrithers stuttered if he didn’t
drink. Werle had rhinoplasty. Geer was a genius. Carver was an enigma. Ibargüen was full of himself.
Millett was a legacy. Dardani supplied beer during the Cuban Missile Crisis. Ingraham joined the
Peace Corps. Holdt was my Big Brother. Hawley hitchhiked to D.C. for Kennedy’s funeral.
Longacre left for the Army. Bickford died in Vietnam. Carlson died in Vietnam. Branigan fled to
Canada. Amarant’s photo appeared in the June issue of Life Magazine, his mortar board atop his
frizzy red hair.
him “Duck.” Ojo was from Nigeria. Luke lived on Diamond Head. Thompson had a Corvette.
Wilson drove a TR4. Gernert got arrested for mooning. Sloane screwed a girl in the library elevator.
McKenzie was the New England heavyweight wrestling champion. Van Kennen won the national
championship in the 50-meter free-style. Burfort was a marathoner. Reiss organized the first All-
Collegiate National Skateboarding Competition. Boynton rewired the radio station. Faerber DJ’d for
seventy-two hours straight. Chorba’s on-air name was “Gary Soul.” McMillan brought the Chiffons
to Fall House Parties. Zetterburg organized Spring Sing. Berger flunked out second semester. Stelle
was so big his golf bag looked like a quiver of arrows. Brundidge married a Black girl. Spoehr had to
get married. Cosell was Howard’s nephew. Darius was Brubeck’s son. Davenport would father
Lindsay. Lilly stood to inherit a pharmacy. Rich was blind. Sehlinger died beneath his VW.
Fluegelman jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge. Hauser’s parents went down in that plane over
Tenerife. Richter sold engagement rings. Bensinger didn’t drink. Carrithers stuttered if he didn’t
drink. Werle had rhinoplasty. Geer was a genius. Carver was an enigma. Ibargüen was full of himself.
Millett was a legacy. Dardani supplied beer during the Cuban Missile Crisis. Ingraham joined the
Peace Corps. Holdt was my Big Brother. Hawley hitchhiked to D.C. for Kennedy’s funeral.
Longacre left for the Army. Bickford died in Vietnam. Carlson died in Vietnam. Branigan fled to
Canada. Amarant’s photo appeared in the June issue of Life Magazine, his mortar board atop his
frizzy red hair.
***
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About the Author
Tor Strand is a Fishtrap Fellow and recipient of the Mari Sandoz Emerging Writer award. He was also selected as the 2023 Margery Davis Boyden Wilderness Writing Resident. Tor’s poetry and essays have been published in the Colorado Review, Salt Hill Journal, Fugue, and elsewhere. He is currently an MFA candidate in poetry at Oregon State University. Find more work at torstrand.org. *About the Work
I wanted to create a poem that felt like a diminishing of space. Form felt particularly important. Well, form should feel important in any poem, but in this one, I wanted to create something striking on the surface since the subject matter portrays one of the many ways we lose traction in life and memory—especially in childhood—so having the lines taper is an attempt to show that diminishment. I often think about pacing in poetry—as a reader as well as a writer—and what tools we have as writers to control the speed at which the poem moves and since this is a poem about the loss of control of a vehicle, I hoped to create a kind of desperation through the form and syntax. *About the Author’s Process
Ironically, I don’t feel as if I have too much control of my writing process either. I am finishing up my MFA at Oregon State right now and in workshop we have been discussing the value of trusting the language and the art of poetry in the drafting process. That is, if you hand over the reins of your mind to the art it might know a little more than you, where the poem ought to go. |
About the Artist
Serge Lecomte was born in Belgium. He came to the States where he spent his teens in South Philly and then Brooklyn. After graduating from Tilden H. S. he joined the Medical Corps in the Air Force. He earned an MA and Ph.D. from Vanderbilt University in Russian Literature with a minor in French Literature. He worked as a Green Beret language instructor at Fort Bragg, NC from 1975-78. In 1988 he received a B.A. from the University of Alaska Fairbanks in Spanish Literature. He worked as a language teacher at the University of Alaska (1978-1997). He worked as a house builder, pipe-fitter, orderly in a hospital, gardener, landscaper, driller for an assaying company, and bartender. "I began my life as a writer, publishing numerous poetry collections and graduating to novels and plays and now paintings. My artwork could be described as somewhat surreal. Crossed realities usually yield amazing and sometimes shocking results. I would describe my art as eclectic. The natural world is in constant flux and so animals and plants mutate to create a surreal tapestry. Nothing is ever as it is “supposed to be.” The images are a blend of the natural world and imaginary creatures. But then you see what you want to see and hear what you want to hear." |
