Dale Wisely

Dale Wisely 

Harry's Unpublished Novel

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for Harry Crews

Harry—Mohawk, tattoo, muscle shirt—realized that the manuscript was so intimate, so naked, that all he could do was mark his place with a thumb in the stack of pages, look out the window, and try not to cry because, he said, it’s so damn close to the final shit and because the book asked the reader a question that only God Almighty should be able to ask because, see, Harry said, it’s just such a freaking, horrifying burden to have that question asked of any man.

And then Harry refused to describe the novel, or reveal the question and so, under influence of drink, I protested and pressed the point and he offered to kill my ass to spare me the agony of ever knowing that awful load that Harry now bears for me, for you, and for us all.