Election blues   begat Liston, begat Clay, begat La Motta, Foreman at the Garden the night Marina her long legs threatening to buckle caught the Express across the bay into the arms of a quiet man whose unbounded love consumed her.   begat..., begat the poet Bissonette. Drove the cab too much of his life while deer wept and children attended school.   begat, begat, begat despair at home, despair in Iraq, the nightly salute at CBS to “Fallen Heroes.”   begat the hip hop of Raven: “I am the voice of Radio Free Michigan: the kingdom of God is within you, and now, it isn’t.... Saginaw, Lansing: Beware: This is the Kristallnacht.”   begat, too, the daughter of Gall and Frank, ravishing, dark, the Laurel that falls across Sand Creek to squealing delight of otter and chaos.   begat Liston, begat Clay, begat Max Schmeling buying his pal, Joe, a beer in Las Vegas after the world went home.
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