Keepsakes — Young Bess

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Keepsakes — Spot

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Keepsakes — Cookie

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Keepsakes — Working On It

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Keepsakes — Sincere Wishes

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Keepsakes — Self Portrait

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Keepsakes — This mess

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This Is Stag Country

Bubbles Ketchum was raised in Mott, cheer-led for the Mohicans, moved here when she had little Madison — cute as a bug. Madison has been a standout for Lady Stags volleyball since eighth grade.

Grady Marlow swore Madison wasn’t his child when she was born, but Tiny Ketchum, Bubbles’s daddy, talked to him about it. Bubbles wore white at the wedding. They parked Madison with Tiny and Fabrice and honeymooned somewhere, then Grady went to work
dispatching vehicles for Ketchum Trucking.

No more kids since then. Bobbi Gail says Fabrice told her Bubbles said Grady tested low for sperm count. Bubbles makes Grady wear boxers on account of it, says men should stay cool down there. They’re trying for a boy now, but it may not be in the cards.

My Monty — rest in peace — didn’t lack fire power. I had my tubes tied after Trojan come caterwampus and scared us to death. Monty took one look at that poor baby and said, “This boy will lead us to Bi-District! His head looks just like a football.” I said, “Monty, shut up!” and busted out crying right there in delivery.

(Copyright 2018 James Mansfield Nichols. All rights reserved.)

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Written in the 70s — reviews / Monroe

reviews / Monroe

“Most of the important things never get communicated in words anyway.” Robert Wilson.

There seems to have been something fragile or defective in my makeup that has not lent me to enduring love. I look back with grief and embarrassment over much of the recent past; there is the sense of failure. Of course, it wasn’t all black. Perhaps whatever I have gained from it and whatever good I did will become more apparent [in] time.

My writing period: such a flap to connect with so little. It was hyper-earnest play, if such a juxtaposition makes any sense. It has become difficult to say anything on paper that doesn’t sound mannered and false.

Wisdom entails an adjusting downward of one’s expectations. But having lived so much in my head I’m forced to be skeptical about any “adjustments” (increments […]

(Copyright 2018 James Mansfield Nichols. All rights reserved.)

70s-13a
Written in the 70s, 70s-13a. (Copyright 2018 James Mansfield Nichols. All rights reserved.)
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Written in the 70s — Salem 01970

Salem 01970
Coutín

Anything too dear in your odd affection spirits toward mirth and issues to air. Your white teeth open, the dear thing dies in laughter. Then your face is whole again.

Washed in the soul-splitting grin of the black-man: “Look at her[,] she won’t wave back. Treat everybody nice. I get on better with you folks [whites] than I do with my own.”

“Surfacing,” Margaret Atwood
“No gods to help me now, they’re questionable once more, theoretical as Jesus. They’ve receded, back to the past, inside the skull, is it the same place. They’ll never appear to me again. I can’t afford it; from now on I’ll have to live in the usual way, defining them by their absence; and love by its failures, power by its loss, its renunciation. I regret them; but they give only one kind of truth, one hand.”

(Copyright 2018 James Mansfield Nichols. All rights reserved.)

70s-13
Written in the 70s, 70s-13. (Copyright 2018 James Mansfield Nichols. All rights reserved.)
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