(a Legendary White Dog story) They had been on the road for about two days when an old man in a ’64 Apache stopped and took them most of the way to Sioux Falls. A salesman picked them up on Route 90 just before the state patrol passed by and would have arrested them both …
Category Archives: Prose
Roy Eldridge’s 77th Birthday
Saturday, January 30, 1988 Something heavy had gone down on Route 82 between its intersection with Route 30 and that intersection with the globe of the Earth on a pedestal, which reminded me of the cat at the last poetry reading who had a deflated beach ball and he kept puffing into it. It looked …
Untitled #1
I stood erect and listened for the sound I knew would come. Straining like a lifter to catch the first airy note. Roberta and Juan coiled like snakes around the core of their mad hope. Longstreth picking banjo and singing country songs. Felix mixing the elixer of existence. Constance dancing from fence to fix. Glen …
Untitled Legendary White Dog Story
Harriet became insanely jealous whenever he would talk about Amanda and the dog. Living with Morgan in the trailer was sometimes nice but most of the time, trying. Whatever she did, she could never compete with Morgan’s past. The pit of which he always spoke was somewhere, about fifty miles to the southwest—no longer there, …
McDonalds Notebooks
Our hero, Trevor Whiz, has infiltrated McDonalds’ corporate management. He writes from somewhere in the West: 12/28 3:21 p.m. — On New Year’s Eve we will thicken our shakes, just as we have on News Years’ past, thus gradually deceiving parents into feeding their kids ice cream with their hamburgers. Hah, but it’s not ice …
It Came from Madison Avenue
by Ogden the Hermit And so it came to pass. And so it came to pass. My name is Ogden; I come from the future. I have seen what is to come. I have seen the outcome of the 75th Super Bowl and the assassination of Gary Coleman. I have seen the end of the …
More About Colleen
When I made the move for my coat at 3 a.m., having spent the previous hour filling up on coffee with lone survivor Mrs. Dumpy, I wondered what had happened to Colleen. As I bent over to retrieve my coat, knocked off its hanger to the floor of the hall closet in the murky Precambrian …
Snappy’s Typewriter Ribbon
The poet awoke before dawn, but he didn’t but his boots on. Instead, he wore dark glasses. “To see the stars better,” he said, but we saw him on the beach with them, staring into tits. His appearance was scrawny, skinny. This, of course, was from the sheer enjoyment of constant word-sparkling vision upon him …
Sputnik
Susan switched off the radio and thought for a minute. Did I really hear that? Right after the Hoyt Axton song? Did I really just hear them say the Russians fired a missile into space? In the dimly lit kitchen that night Gran asked Daddy what it could mean. There was a worried look on …