Sunday, January 2nd, 2011
“How to Ruin a Good Funeral” by David James
David James HOW TO RUIN A GOOD FUNERAL Show up shit-faced wearing your softball uniform and sit in the front row with the family. Pass out bags of peanuts. Drop the shells at your feet, cracking them open throughout the eulogy. Offer to say a few remarks. Once at the podium, rattle off dead-baby jokes. [...]
2 Comments » - Posted in Poems,Tributes by Megan
Thursday, September 16th, 2010
“How to Make Amends” by David James
David James HOW TO MAKE AMENDS He was hungry, so he ate the couch, the one with the pull-out bed. Of course, when the wife came home, she was disgusted. “Now what will we sit on, asshole? Last week it was the coffee table; the week before, two kitchen chairs and a lamp. What next, [...]
No Comments » - Posted in Poems by Megan
Friday, January 29th, 2010
“The Famous Outlaw” by David James
David James THE FAMOUS OUTLAW He rides into town on a retarded horse, falling off five times before reaching the saloon. His horse has a tendency to trip over its own hooves, like steps or bowling balls. The cowboy wears a helmet to safeguard against personal head injuries. Unknowingly, he ties himself to the hitching [...]
No Comments » - Posted in Audio,Poems by Timothy Green
Friday, November 27th, 2009
“How to Make Amends” by David James
David James HOW TO MAKE AMENDS He was hungry, so he ate the couch, the one with the pull-out bed. Of course, when the wife came home, she was disgusted. “Now what will we sit on, asshole? Last week it was the coffee table; the week before, two kitchen chairs and a lamp. What [...]
No Comments » - Posted in Audio,Poems,Tributes by Timothy Green
Friday, September 25th, 2009
SHE DANCES LIKE MUSSOLINI by David James
Review by James Benton SHE DANCES LIKE MUSSOLINI by David James March Street Press 3413 Wilshire Greensboro, NC 27408 ISBN 1-59661-105-7 2009, 60 pp., $15.00 marchstreetpress.com Imagine those famous paintings of dogs playing poker. Now imagine the kind of person who hangs those paintings on the wall of his man-cave, not because he thinks of [...]
