By John Dorroh The Kansas City, Kansas, Health System is making plans to celebrate the long-lost inflatable colon, which has now been found inside a house on Virginia Street. October 23, 2018 1. The giant inflatable colon has been found right down the street as I drink coffee and pour myself a bowl of … Continue reading “The Missing and/or Stolen Inflatable Colon Has Been Found!”
By John Dorroh A friend dropped a white plastic bag onto the kitchen table. It was loaded with 3 cheeses from Marcoot’s Creamery – garlic herbed cheese curds, smoked gouda, and Quark, a spreadable creamy cheese with a sweet kiss on the palette. The wine was already open, just like my heart in an … Continue reading “Paying Homage to Jersey Cows on a Friday Afternoon”
By John Dorroh 1. The first snow is pretty – virgin flakes whispering through cold air, cascading from billowy, gray clouds, landing gently on barren ground, fresh, mesmerizing, hopeful, promises (leaving a film of anticipation) Sadly, it loses its beauty. 2. She grew up in snow, clutched by its cold, blue talons; favored by wise … Continue reading “Collateral Damage”
By John Dorroh She told me to write while it’s quiet, while the dogs are on the deck sunning in a dangerous summer sun, while the earth movers are not chewing up the ridge across the road, while the neighborhood kids are stuck at school, while the jackhammers are in the backs of workers’ … Continue reading “Write While It’s Quiet”
By John Dorroh For those of you who can see through the fog to the other side of the river; to those of you who dance until 3 in the morning and never sit down; to those of you who have a secret contract with God to minimize your distractions, your general life hassles, your … Continue reading Surprise Party: A Simplified Explanation of Life
By John Dorroh My friend is giving birth in the front seat of my Civic, zipping down Highway 45 South to the Gulf of Mexico, to a secret place in Mississippi that gave me new life three years ago when I thought I was going to die. Her pains are registered in compressed throbettes, … Continue reading New Breath
By John Dorroh I climbed into the oven to get a better look, to erase history with a brillo pad and some elbow grease. The first mountain was pitch black and starless, a horrible crust from cheese that leaked from a Mexican casserole last July on the hottest day of the year. It was … Continue reading Erasing The History Of My Oven
By John Dorroh My roommate likes to burn stuff in the middle of the back of the back yard where he’s fashioned a burn pit, surrounded with seats carved out of ancient oak stumps, a primitive Stonehenge as it were. When I had known him a year, I grew leery, concerned about his proclivity … Continue reading Got Wood?