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“My Dog, My Beagle, My Freckles,” a comic story by Daniel Holland
Freckles, why did you have sex with the poodle next door? Poor puppies have beagle faces and poodle hairstyles. After the love affair of the poodle, your girlfriend was that St. Bernard. When the St. Bernard jumped on the gray, roughened, falling-down fence, it shook like an earthquake. Freckles came running on all four paws…
“Snow Story Lies,” by Daniel Holland
I always lie when I tell snow stories. You say you walked to school as a kid in two feet of snow. I say I walked in three feet of snow. Not only that–it was 20 degrees below zero. There were no bathrooms in sight, a lot of people around. I was pee-shy.
“First Words,” by Daniel Holland
If I write about cavemen, do I need to go to a library? Or can I just say the caveman’s first two words? Fire. Wheel.
“Traveling Blister,” by Daniel Holland
When the blister wants to come out, there’s no stopping it. Walk too much–the blister can come out. Use your hands a lot–the blister will come out. “Me, Blister, I will travel.” Sit down a lot and see what happens. The end.
Baiting the Writing Hooks and Reeling It In–by Daniel Holland
Here’s Daniel Holland’s fanciful description of his writing process.–JGR I’m good at getting the hooks and baiting the hooks. I’m frustrated though, once my line is in the water. I don’t yet know how to play the line so I can get the bites and catch the fish. There’s my line in the water, dangling,…
“She Saw,” a poem by Daniel Holland
Perched on the end of faded green roughened seesaw. Roughened by sand poured over the board. I went up and down, then suddenly stopped. Stopped in midflight by a girl child turned woman. She said, “Here I am!” with her eyes. She made the sand feel solid.

There is a lot of philosophy in these few lines. Yes, griping, comparing the shadows of the past. They do dog us, don’t they? I enjoy the image of you tanning in the richness of today’s sunlight.
As a professional griper, I take offense at the notion of needing a sun burn. You, on the other hand, get to tan! “Unfair!” she griped.