Rhodes Nails It

Alan Rhodes is a writer for the Cascadia Weekly.  His article, “Channeling the American Literary Canon: Six Dead White Guys and Emily Dickinson Talk About Coal Trains” in this weeks issue, 7/18/12 #29, split my sides with laughter!

When he came to Ernest Hemingway it seems he was truly channeling old Hemmy.
Here’s a peek:

In spring the coal trains came and
they were not good so Pablo and I
blew up the tracks.
then I went home and she was there
and we made love.

“Was it good for you?” she asked
“Yes,” I said, “It was good and right
to blow up the tracks.”
“I meant the sex,” she said.
I did not tell her that blowing up the
tracks was better.

Loved it Alan!  Please check out Cascadia Weekly for more great articles!
http://www.cascadiaweekly.com/

Published by Shannon Laws

Shannon Laws is an award-winning poet, performer, and advocate for the arts. She has been recognized with two Mayor’s Arts Awards and the Dr. Asha Bhargava Memorial Award — Community Champion. Her work has been featured in numerous journals and anthologies, and she has captivated audiences at esteemed literary events, including the Jack McCarthy Evergreen Invitational Slam, SpeakEasy, Poetry Night, Kitchen Sessions, and the West Coast Tagore Festival. Beyond her writing and performances, Shannon actively fosters literary and artistic communities. Since 2022, she has curated Corridor, a monthly “found-art” zine project that showcases the work of more than 50 contributing poets and artists. She is also the founder and host of Poetry Club, an engaging discussion group established in 2015.

2 thoughts on “Rhodes Nails It

  1. I'm glad you enjoyed the column. Due to space considerations my Faulkner passage was omitted. I've included it below.

    Alan

    “The redolence of the early summer vegetation until now fecund and inviolable in its voluptuous requiescence rebelled in a static and impotent rage against the effluvium and exudation, the primitive and barbaric insult of the grim and demonic coal train that trespassed this sylvan glade where heretofore each summer had held promise only of renewal, a timeless promise etched deep in the human soul…”

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