Tag: Ken Wheatcroft-Pardue

At 50 by Ken Wheatcroft-Pardue

my gums are receding, but on the good side – I’ve finally gotten a superpower, invisibility. Well, at least to young attractive women, I’m invisible. They stare past me as if I were transparent and sometimes they even walk right through me. Really. I… Continue Reading “At 50 by Ken Wheatcroft-Pardue”

Just a Slice (June 1976) by Ken Wheatcroft-Pardue

5 hours in a sun so blistered trying to hitch a ride out of Alamogordo – pasty-faced seniors in Winnebagos for some odd reason not trusting my long-haired bearded self – I gave up. Called my old man to wire me bus fare. In… Continue Reading “Just a Slice (June 1976) by Ken Wheatcroft-Pardue”

All Backs Wear Out by Ken Wheatcroft-Pardue

All those beautiful women in their twenties with their naked, supple bodies, incredible pre-sagging, pre-kids breasts, buns, still firm and shapely, and well-muscled thighs wrapped around my waist, as I carried them to bed. Could that be the cause 30 years later of this… Continue Reading “All Backs Wear Out by Ken Wheatcroft-Pardue”

Everything is Lost by Ken Wheatcroft-Pardue

Me, the dumbest sentimentalist of all times. Today I’ve been thinking on that run-down apartment house my grandma lived in near downtown decades ago. Been razed for years, but today that musty smell in the hallway came back to me. Is there even one… Continue Reading “Everything is Lost by Ken Wheatcroft-Pardue”

In Jackson 5: My Wife’s Last Birthday by Ken Wheatcroft-Pardue

In the psyche ward’s cafeteria, she sits, barely picking at her food. Her brow, wrinkled like a hieroglyph, meaning unbelievable suffering. Cutters, schizos, manics, substance abusers form a rag-tag choir. . Belt out an off-key “Happy Birthday to you” to someone they don’t even… Continue Reading “In Jackson 5: My Wife’s Last Birthday by Ken Wheatcroft-Pardue”

Woe to Those Poets of Easy Comfort! by Ken Wheatcroft-Pardue

Weekends in Connecticut, chipper didacts, trust fund babies, who live in cities but write of “nature,” not as anyone who knows it sees it, but as a kind of gentrified ecosystem. Survival of the cutesy! Woe to those poets of easy comfort! May they… Continue Reading “Woe to Those Poets of Easy Comfort! by Ken Wheatcroft-Pardue”

I Find it Strangely Comforting by Ken Wheatcroft-Pardue

That some patch of dust on that hard-to-get-to shelf yonder could be dead skin cells sloughed off her bent, pain-racked body more than 2 years ago now. Or that some microbial creature still spirals through my twisted, maze-like intestines, a parting gift from her,… Continue Reading “I Find it Strangely Comforting by Ken Wheatcroft-Pardue”