Author Archives: bsalter

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Saltered States by Bruce Salter SAN FRANCISCO, CA (Weekly Hubris)— 11/22/10—A slug. A grotesque human slug. That’s what he was now, that’s what he had become. A series of singular accidents, to abhorrent to relate here, had plucked his limbs from their sockets, one by one, like so many pieces of over-ripe fruit from a [...]

Saltered States by Bruce Salter SAN FRANCISCO, CA (Weekly Hubris)—10/25/10— This heart pumps gasoline ignited by a dream These lips lock tightly, suffocating sound This eye cries in silence, shedding no tear This soul recoils before diving into the night

Saltered States By Bruce Salter EN ROUTE TO SAN FRANCISCO, CA (Weekly Hubris)—9/13/10—I had been in Los Angeles for only two days and my beleaguered brain was already beginning to scream for mercy. LA is usually a place I avoid like the plague but, when Ollie Stone called begging me to fly down and work [...]

Saltered States by Bruce Salter “. . . Love has pitched his mansion in/The place of excrement;/For nothing can be sole or whole/That has not been rent.” —William Butler Yeats, “Crazy Jane Talks With The Bishop” EN ROUTE TO SAN FRANCISCO, CA (Weekly Hubris)—8/30/10—A pair of sandpipers strolled through the lapping foam, and the gentle [...]

Saltered States by Bruce Salter EN ROUTE TO SAN FRANCISCO, CA—(Weekly Hubris)—8/16/10—It was a pleasantly warm Sunday afternoon, the finches chirping as they gathered up insects to feed their hatchlings, and squirrels barking playfully in the shade of the swaying pine and spruce trees blanketing the steep mountainsides, as I made my way over the [...]

Saltered States by Bruce Salter EN ROUTE TO SAN FRANCISCO, CA— (Weekly Hubris) —In a parched landscape a solitary figure sat on a rock beneath a twisting Cottonwood tree, vainly trying to shade himself from the relentless sun. “Jeez, it’s hot,” he snarled, wiping his face with a soiled kerchief. “Where the hell is he? [...]

Saltered States by Bruce Salter EN ROUTE TO, CA—(Weekly Hubris)—7/12/10—The long needles she used for her intricate embroidery had no eyes. The clock she kept at her bedside had no hands. And Susan, her long brown hair braided tightly behind her head, had no heart. Her chest was a void, a black chasm containing only [...]

Saltered States by Bruce Salter EN ROUTE TO, CA—(Weekly Hubris)—6/28/10—She said she was a dancer. I studied her legs, her magnificently strong alabaster-white legs, stretching from the mountaintop on which she reclined to the smudge of forest, gleaming like a viridian jewel on the western horizon, and saw no reason to doubt her. Those legs [...]

Saltered States by Bruce Salter EN ROUTE TO, CA—(Weekly Hubris)—6/11/10—My return to Michigan, specifically to the atrophied hamlet of Brighton, was not voluntary. If geographic locations possess their own personalities, which, of course, they do, then Brighton, with its glistening patina of superficiality and prosaic intellectual retardation, would easily qualify as a front runner on [...]

Saltered States by Bruce Salter EN ROUTE TO, CA—(Weekly Hubris)—5/24/10—Jack and Jean were what some people might call typical. Jack was 27, worked in a loan office, liked to drink imported beer while watching sports, and always worried about his weight, which tended toward the excessive. Jean was 28, worked as an auditor for a [...]