Earl Sanders

Boy, that day, Dougie McWood didn't expect anything like the test of his manhood he found. Practicing urban archaeology is complicated. Most men, Dougie assumed, can't handle it. Really? Urban archaeologist, self-described. Dig? Excitement in the biz is ancient drainpipes; buried tunnel systems; 19th Century liquor bottles; wood fragments; old... Read More

Left on the beach but nevertheless an outlaw poet, a veritable phenomenon within his distinctly urban tribe, Oral pondered: What does it mean to escape a sinking ocean cruise liner of "academic poetry," only to be cast away when your row boat capsizes? There, on sand, this somewhat exiguous mastermind... Read More

On his walk home after a trying day with the math teacher and the math teacher's insistence he learn logarithms and matrices as part of the advanced algebra studies his dad said would "get you on the ladder to success," Ernie Sales, a young high schooler with a fairly weird... Read More

From the backseat of the white Dodge station wagon with peeling black seat-backs because the glue let go, it's maybe 90,000 degrees in the bright sunlight. That blasted auto is a smoke-filled room, so much tobacco smoke is choking its way down my throat. Blasted, I'd imagine, Daddy's driving through... Read More

Whores!  This was Jerry's thought the instant he strolled into Velvet Vampires, a locally-infamous strip club. Look at them! Baring breasts before lustful eyes! Those Afghanis over there--drunk! Why are you here, Jerry? a voice in the air asked. These indentured women need saving. Rescue. From Satan's predatory arms. The... Read More

The man is leaving his apartment, and once on the concrete walkway at the bottom of the second-floor landing, begins to stroll through a wonderful, shady morning. Just as he is about to climb a short set of stairs, he confronts a swarm of gnats, and bats them away. He's... Read More

Dear Sir Lancelot: When that Brett Kavanaugh dude told me he likes beer, he became my Catholic beer bro. And whiskey. You know: Wherever two or three are swigging a round, there’s always a fifth. But seriously, it’s always been beer for me. Remember? The afternoon I got drunk and... Read More