Michele McDannold

Author's details

Name: Michele McDannold
Date registered: June 15, 2010

Latest posts

Underground report: denver. — July 7, 2013
Underground Pre-Report: Cleveland, Ohio. — July 7, 2013
Underground report: Carlinville, Illinois. — July 7, 2013
Underground Report: Jacksonville, Illinois. — July 7, 2013
E.E. Cummings — July 7, 2013

Author's posts listings

Sep 15

A Rough Life on Four Legs

Categories:

archives, Citizens for Decent Literature, Issue #2, Poetry

by Michele McDannold

by J. Claudius Cloyd On the block over from the pioneer square just opposite the meyer and franks sit the gutter punks and their dogs. It’s the dogs that get me. I know I should feel bad for the kids but that’s not why I give them a few bucks. They sit in the shade …

Sep 15

Gun Control

Categories:

archives, Citizens for Decent Literature, Issue #2, Poetry

by Michele McDannold

by Alan Britt Guns control more than the stock market. Look around you. Who sent guns to Sadam in the first place? So, don’t kid yourself about gun control.

Sep 15

Educational Recruiter Blues I

Categories:

archives, Citizens for Decent Literature, Issue #2, Poetry

by Michele McDannold

by Dan Provost Because it’s the sale of education. That forces me to carry a knife in my pocket and debate every day whether to cut my wrist or try to change my small part of the world by refusing to be bought. I will not tell lies anymore. Trying to convince someone that the …

Sep 15

Brooks and the Shawshank Piano

Categories:

archives, Citizens for Decent Literature, Issue #2, Poetry

by Michele McDannold

by Dan Provost The piano notes in Shawshank Redemption So daunting… So final… Brooks knew it—the fear of living. Every step out in the world is a claw to the stomach; a bayonet that churns when you attempt to try to converse with the normal. This is no way to survive…this failure to understand mankind. …

Sep 15

A Moment’s Terror

Categories:

archives, Citizens for Decent Literature, Issue #2, Poetry

by Michele McDannold

by Gene Fehler “A moment’s terror.” The words remind her of Miss Albers. “A moment’s terror” has to be the best oxymoron, she thinks, as the moment spreads across weeks, months. Sometimes, like during soccer games racing downfield when feet feel for the ball and the ball explodes into a goal, cheers hide the terror …

Sep 15

You Wash, I’ll Dry

Categories:

archives, Citizens for Decent Literature, Comic, Issue #2

by Michele McDannold

Sep 15

Afterward

Categories:

archives, Citizens for Decent Literature, Issue #2, Poetry

by Michele McDannold

by William Doreski Having lain awake all night in the shrubbery in front of the bank, I’m rigid as a stop sign, my bones at odds with each other and my breakfast-passion ripe and quaint as the sexual prowess our culture used to glorify with sloppy kisses and sultry looks. Now that we’re homeless by …

Sep 15

A Fish-Pond

Categories:

archives, Citizens for Decent Literature, Issue #2, Poetry

by Michele McDannold

by William Doreksi A fish-pond by a stumbledown barn. A chubby old man and I sit on the rim and skip stones. Mine skip a dozen skips, his one or two. “I admire your style,” he remarks, “the flip of the wrist, the single knot of muscle pulsing down the forearm.” The summer evening throbs …

Sep 15

The Trapdoor Spider in the Alley

Categories:

archives, Citizens for Decent Literature, Issue #2, Short Story

by Michele McDannold

by Luis Rivas I see them walking by but they don’t see me. In the alley where I sleep, the tall overgrown bamboo stretches out over the walls and cascades down to the ground. I sit completely still behind the thick branches and trash and watch all of them walk by me in the dimly-lit …

Sep 15

The Success of Trey

Categories:

archives, Citizens for Decent Literature, Issue #2, Short Story

by Michele McDannold

by Luis Rivas There is no truth. There is only perception. – Gustave Flaubert I wake up. Hangover’s not too bad. I lift off the cut-out carpet that I’m using as a blanket. I locate my briefcase (imitation leather but still looks damn expensive) which I stole from the Salvation Army Thrift Store. I get …