Archive for the ‘JD Nelson’ Category

By JD Nelson

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It was easy, eating rat.

* * *

“Your planet,” I said, “disgusts me.”
“Where were you born?” she asked.
“Nowhere,” I said.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Get on the Moon, Apollo!

“There’s no ink for Sunday’s paper, so we’ll have to do without coupons,” said the toad. “We’ll have to do without comeeks.”

“Get away from me with that eye,” said the tree.

The brain happening to the self.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

luncheon dungeon

a moon in every living room
a lion in every den

swansome in my new nikes
(rhymes with mikes, not psyches)

it was easy, eating art.

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Three Pieces by J.D. Nelson

By J.D. Nelson


Loud Lubbock

“What’re you eatin’ on?” asked Jiminy Morrison.

“This is an orange, a new space-fruit from the planet of Earth,” I said.

“Far out,” said Jiminy. Earth was warm. Earth was wet.

“Want some?” I asked.

“I think I’ll Paas™” said Jiminy.

Earth was weird.


Fool’s Gold Bill Bixby

whenceday ///
the shape of the water

printing chicken
is money for food

(juicy fruit wrapper
mistaken for a steel bolt)

learn woodburning!


James Hetfield is a Fast Learner


WINSTON HICCUX: Approx. o. x.

Ladies and gentlemen,
I was born with a 19
13 nickel in my mouth.

James Hetfield drives an American van.

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By J.D. Nelson

38th & Ringsby.

“Relax,” I said, “this is only a dream.”

“Don’t tell me to relax,” I said.

I stole a coat and warmed right up.

I found myself in a ditch,
eating rabbit and belching.

I was number one-oh-one, or something.

“The burgers are done, you guys,” I said.

Something about the World Series,
trying to outrun buffalo.

I’d forgotten to rewind my finger.

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Spiderweed (Three Dime Pattern)

By JD Nelson

East Xolfax & Xolorado.

TORTILLA GORILLA: Oh, yeah? Name one.



CINNAMON LIFE: Wafflemoon.

She had him, there.

East Xolfax & Xowning.

TORTILLA GORILLA: This graph paper is good enough.

CINNAMON LIFE: The grid is faint.

TORTILLA GORILLA: Nothin’ worse than a cloned cop.

CINNAMON LIFE: So, this is what Earth feels like.

TORTILLA GORILLA: Earth is known for its chapbooks printed on graph paper.

East Xolfax & Xennsylvania.

TORTILLA GORILLA: My brain is a cloud of words.

CINNAMON LIFE: We’ve all turned into John Carpenters.

TORTILLA GORILLA: Here in Xenver, we have crickets.

CINNAMON LIFE: Earth isn’t a regular sort of place.

TORTILLA GORILLA: (Requesting stop) My heart is a knot of worms.

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Frontier Tonky

By JD Nelson

Genesee, Tennessee.

Silence was.

Bat Child wondered about the crooky moon.

“Blue coffee is a good guess,” said Metric Wolf.

“I could’ve been the brain in sky movies,” said Bat Child.


Metric Wolf made mayonnaise sandwiches with bread he had found in the dumpster.

“The universe is a hotel with an infinite number of rooms, on an infinite number of floors,” he said.

“Whoa,” said Bat Child.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” said Metric Wolf.


Bat Child wondered about the 1970s.

“What about Dorothy Hamill,” asked Bat Child.

“It’s happening to her,” said Metric Wolf.

“What about Mark Hamill?”

“It’s happening to him, too.”

“I found 15 cents in the parking lot,” said Bat Child.

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By JD Nelson

The Orion Nebula.

“Earth was eaten this morning and there’s nothing you can do about it,” said Mr. Connolly.

“Speak,” said the machine.

“Ten of those twenties are mine,” I said.

“What is your life plan?” asked Mr. Connolly.

“Speak,” said the machine.

“I want to make a fresh start,” I said. “I want to bake a book of cookies.”

“Very well,” he mumbled. “You are dismissed.”

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, Robot

By JD Nelson

Greater metro area rug. All along the waffletower. It was Helen of Troy, or maybe it was Helen Reddy. Twenty-four hours in a jail in the USA, in Xenver. Crayola Mars at Grand Rabbit’s. Things thunk. Hamburger at dawn. Impossibly tonight. Everything is backwards on the bus. The brain in my brain. I am the agent of green rocks on the north side of town. Trees of science and America. What it is, in black denim. A creature of time in the darkness. Online swimming lessons for fish. I came back from the Moon as a frog-faced Dracula.

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The Earth is a Booger

By JD Nelson

Indigo, Montana.

“Wow – that’s some astro,” I blinked.

Handy Wendy of the Bible pressed a green button on the control panel.

“I’ve been grafting sausage onto my old body,” I said.

“Untruth,” said the machine.

“I knew you’d know,” I said.

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David Bowie’s Coffee

By JD Nelson

It’s a Normal morning in Illinois. Robots rusting. I’m building a ship. I’m slipping away tonight. Pyramid of worms. The call! Tin foil pants. Aspirin hands. The whole egg barber has hi-fi bacon. I know the Earth, OK? Is that the old spider? Space gets out, but we have another word. I saw a flying octopus this morning. I’ve seen the underground clouds. Slithering orange. Suction cup puzzle. Lost in the Fingerhut catalog. There’s a pile of commas in the corner of my writing room. I am the future of worms. Red LED pupils. I’m in the kitchen with Christ.

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Oh, Yer Air or Old Smarts

By JD Nelson

California Zephyr. Morning.

Granby more. One sun. That’s as good as laughing. In reverse pretend order, the random stars:

“I was smaller than a brain when I was small.”

Taking the train with bullet of one nickel.

“I became the smiling moon.”

How and hoo say the jam? The rest of us know the answer with clouds and the wrong pajamas.

“I care for a panda with the smarter air.”

One bun already. French noodle.

“I know of stars.”

Doctor the area rug with muffler sparks. Ringo, the Shrimp Kid.

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