pages Clay Pigeon

by R. Bremner

Published in Issue No. 283 ~ December, 2020

A DJ and a female convict were hypnotized by a scorpion that withers, and I can’t get sparks out of my head. It hurts so well when animals don’t let me be misunderstood. A Hamish hawk was unlucky and unlikely when a rocketship from Dixieland shot pink bullets into its shins. An Afghan who was light as a feather told some gothic Archies that the world is a very scary place and needed some inspiration information. The curse of the tyrannosaurus rex caused gas in the stereo lab where a double feature of Freedom of ’76 was playing for the general public, which felt hot. You’re cool in the underground inside your heart, where Andy Warhol makes his apologies to nirvana by the time he gets to Phoenix. A wild child took a birdbath in the modern world with trashmen and a monster. The 8th driver experienced rapid eye movement when the anymore monkeys said hush to Valleri. Coffee in the pot jumped into the fire. Little Castrato, a member of the blue-collar upper crust, sought a brainy fox who turned out to be a welcome mystery for only women. I hope you don’t bleed when you say hello to dynamite and goodbye to Jane after little Willie eats a sweet and agrees to a nonalignment pact.


(This Absurdist story is built from a playlist of Clay Pigeon, a disc jockey at radio station WFMU in Jersey City, New Jersey.)

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R. Bremner has been a cab driver, truck unloader, security guard, computer programmer, and vice-president at Citibank. He has been writing of incense, peppermints, and the color of time since the 1970s, when he appeared in the first issue of Passaic Review, along with Allen Ginsberg and other talents. Ron has never been nominated for any prizes, but has published six books with outlaw and indie presses, and featured at numerous venues, including the Bowery Poetry Club in NYC.