Stories

Fiction, Non-Fiction, Essays

Three Words: a Telling

Three Words: a Telling

Three Words The stories all agree, it was the children who did it. I’ve tried to piece the truth together by looking for commonalities between the various tellings of the story. All of the tellings describe a rising tide of anger among the youth. The growing...

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Imagine

Imagine I was in New York City the night John Lennon was killed. After visiting with my folks around Thanksgiving, I celebrated my birthday on the sixth with my girlfriend Lisa in New Jersey, then caught a bus up to the city to visit my friends Bill and Karen. We...

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Weather Report

Weather Report

Three Words The stories all agree, it was the children who did it. I’ve tried to piece the truth together by looking for commonalities between the various tellings of the story. All of the tellings describe a rising tide of anger among the youth. The growing...

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A Memory of Dennis Banks

Weather Report (short fiction by Ken Zimmerman) -- I’d like to tell you I received this a few weeks ago, as an anonymous email with the title Weather Report on its subject line. I’d even mention that I recognized the writing style as that of a former student who...

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Salto Profundo: Prelude

Salto Profundo: Prelude

Prelude: Rio Profundo “The river has an ending, but it does not end. It has a beginning, but it never began.”  (from the blog of Ricky Gnarsky) Above mountains and under clouds a Chilean condor soars, his broad wings—three full meters from tip to tip—catching the...

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For Ken, Who Saved My Life

A Memory of Dennis Banks The death of the great Native American elder and leader Dennis Banks brought back to me the time I got the chance to meet and listen to him, and to sweat with him, as well. What a powerful man, and what an amazing experience for a young hippie...

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The Ones Who Walk In

There was that one night when Timothy Leary threw himself into my arms— literally— and over and over again, too. It was spring term, 1988, and I was working hard on writing the poems to finish up my MFA thesis. But Kesey’s novel class was in the revision stage, and...

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