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Ernest Slyman
Queens, NY
Poet, humorist, playwright and novelist.
Recent Activity
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In Coleman’s Cafe, what you did was drop a dime in the jukebox. And a ghost would come out, wave you, ask you for a hug. Country music is kind of chummy. It’s pale, often transparent and turns round and round on that platter. You know it’s haunting you cause... Continue reading
Posted 11 hours ago at Bristol Stories
The census bureau has contacted the city of Bristol and informed us we are larger than projected. What was the unfortunate missing numbers was spiritual beings. Bristol has more ghosts than any town in America. The numbers given by the census bureau is that our ghosts are numerous. Big crowds... Continue reading
Posted 13 hours ago at Bristol Stories
Gladstone took his hat off. He tossed it on the bed. It bounced and turned to flop on the floor. “Great to be in Bristol,” Gladstone tooted. His voice was a locomotive. He could sing like Tennessee Ernie Ford. Me, my mouth don’t sound like that. It hides somewhere in... Continue reading
Posted 13 hours ago at Bristol Stories
Just don’t expect Gladstone to give you nothing. He’s all into the church hymn that knocked it out of the park that night in Bristol. He recalls it over and over. Coming to town on that bus, Gladstone rolled out the red carpet. We could hear him croon. That church... Continue reading
Posted 13 hours ago at Bristol Stories
Bristol loved Jack Trayer so much it didn’t want to let go. It held Jack in its arms. Kissed him on the forehead as it passed by his coffin. Probably the birds in Bristol felt sad for Jack. You could hear them peep all over town. I thought of this... Continue reading
Posted yesterday at Bristol Stories
Ghosts don’t cast a shadow. It’s a clump brightly lit, a glow that falls on the floor. Sometimes it sticks to the ceiling. Or hides under the living room coffee table. See one outside they might be floating or flying. You see in Bristol we’re up on ghosts. They come... Continue reading
Posted yesterday at Bristol Stories
I’d drank a couple of coffees. I opened the newspaper. Did ’t notice anything about Jack Trayer funeral. Then I turned a page and his obituary stuck its thumb in my eye. The long column held more words than I wanted to see. And all them roared at me like... Continue reading
Posted yesterday at Bristol Stories
I was the one who took the last gulp of whiskey. The bottle lifted up, spilled a bunch of drops down my throat. I thought I was going to taste something amazing. And all I got was a tiny gulp that crawled down my throat and sang a lullaby. What... Continue reading
Posted 2 days ago at Bristol Stories
We was coming to Jack Trayer’s funeral? Of course there was more to it than that. It was immense what was about to happen. Hit us in the gut. Got there in a hour and a half. How was we going to keep ourselves from balling our eyes out. That... Continue reading
Posted 2 days ago at Bristol Stories
I seen him fidgeting, his head ducked down, eyes closed, his mouth making a fizzing sound like it was releasing the grief we all felt. He looked back over his shoulder like something I said bothered him. He wondered what I was doing. Nosey thing. His hand disappeared into that... Continue reading
Posted 2 days ago at Bristol Stories
The earth's round and chubby cheeked. Looks like Huckleberry Finn. Goes barefoot. Smokes a corncob pipe. Don’t speak no good grammar. Cause it didn’t go to school. Went fishing, instead. Can’t pass a full length mirror without gazing at its beauty. For a big planet with a pot belly it’s... Continue reading
Posted 4 days ago at Bristol Stories
Money’s a carnival barker. The bright lights of paper money spread their beams along the ground. A dime’s a soft spoken child who holds a red balloon. Cotton candy is a five dollar bill. The sideshows hold their enticements out for us. There’s the one dollar bill which looks like... Continue reading
Posted 4 days ago at Bristol Stories
Right up there with love, nothing to it. Hotdogs wrapped in cornbread give you a mouthful of happiness. The truth is that the stick knows your name. Every child who bites a corndog will never be able to forget the flavor. It’s always going to grant you a wish. One... Continue reading
Posted 4 days ago at Bristol Stories
The grass in Bristol has no time for bare-feet. It’s jealous of anyone who robs it of its bliss. Bare-feet are just a bunch of pigs. Vain, can’t abide bare-feet begging for happiness. The bare-feet need to be patient. Humble things come to those who don’t wear shoes. It’s the... Continue reading
Posted 4 days ago at Bristol Stories
I'm a little tired, sleepy when I first wake up. Try to wash my face. Have a little breakfast. A few cornfields in Bristol will fill up my bowl. I’m eight billion years old. I’m grumpy. My back hurts. My knees don’t like me. Can’t stand up without holding on... Continue reading
Posted 4 days ago at Bristol Stories
Would you please pass the biscuits? The moon hasn’t eaten since April, when the table was full of apple pie, two baked hams, yams, a bowl of mashed potatoes that spoke a few verses from Deuteronomy. The moon has never used a spoon. It simply sticks its face down on... Continue reading
Posted 4 days ago at Bristol Stories
Morning welcomes the first church hymn from the woods. The sparrows take uo a collection among the congregation. Toads give everything they've got. The falling light lands on both feet. Strolls across the lawn, throwing its weight around. At ten o’clock the light is big as the Great Smoky Mountains.... Continue reading
Posted 4 days ago at Bristol Stories
Elder Tom has approached Henry on previous occasions. They’ve spoken about the life of insects and birds. Deacon Marty has spoken as well. How does Henry do it? His shoulders slump. His hear remains above the surface. He's happy. He's like some kind of bird wearing a red bowtie. Deacon... Continue reading
Posted 5 days ago at Bristol Stories
Do you know him? Henry Winthrop? Sits on the aisle, legs crossed, hands in his lap, mouth wiggling like a fish. How does he manage to roll his mouth like that. You’d think he was a country gambler. His mouth like dice on a crap table rolling down and caroming... Continue reading
Posted 5 days ago at Bristol Stories
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In every mean deed, in every hateful speech there’s the Devil’s Door. Don’t open it. The cuss words have doors. Their doorknobs turn and a dark spirit covers the town. Bristol’s street lights turn on and try to gather the cuss words up. Collect the hate like strawberries in a... Continue reading
Posted 6 days ago at Bristol Stories
It's large, all right you can camp out in it. The Bristol Laugh has plenty of room. Sometimes it as big as the moon. Got two bedrooms and a bath. The Bristol sense of humor cracked its head on the sidewalk. Slipped on a roller-skate. Fell down a flight of... Continue reading
Posted 7 days ago at Bristol Stories
How do you play the fiddle? You can court it all you want? But the Stradivarius will never give you a second look. Much less a wink or a kiss. If it says anything, it will be ‘huh.’ The fiddle will look you up and down and you will never... Continue reading
Posted 7 days ago at Bristol Stories
Fish-sticks that wink at you. Maryland Style Chicken that asks you for your name and phone number. They kind of like you? Cornbread that speaks with a twang. The mustard greens will never forget your face. The mashed potatoes close their eyes and gaze up at you admiring your chin,... Continue reading
Posted 7 days ago at Bristol Stories
Do you know any women in Bristol who are married who whisper in bed to their husbands? Of course, not. And do you know why? It’s the Whispers of Bristol, which carry the moonlight to our ears. Shimmer up bright. Glow for at least an hour. Which sometimes gives us... Continue reading
Posted 7 days ago at Bristol Stories
By writing a dirty story, I must tell I am surprised my pen would cooperate. It’s downright filthy. Scatalogically speaking you might hear some rude and lewd language. So I’ve decided to cover the lewd, crude language with some honey. Doctor Newley made many house calls in Bristol. His many... Continue reading
Posted 7 days ago at Bristol Stories