http://slow.writerscafe.org/GarrettCook The original writings of author Garrett Cook en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776007400 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 I. ChildhoodMy uncle Rodney returned from Vietnam in a wheelchair and among my father’s four brothers was the typical inspirational-triumph over adversity-Chicken Soup for the Soul good guy. My father didn’t know Rodney well since there were about eight years between them, but he knew .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/GarrettCook/306342/             “Now ain’t we friends?” the old man coughed            But his grip on his knife stayed tight            His eyes like his glasse.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/GarrettCook/305048/ Previously posted on my monstrously unpopular blog, I thought maybe I'd like this story inspired by a next door neighbor who insists on playing Dave Matthews songs on his guitar at 3 am read. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/GarrettCook/300556/ I. The jar remains unopened. I know what’s inside it, and what’s inside it is only mayonnaise, but nothing is scarier than this jar. I stare at it. It stares at me. It has no eyes but I am certain that it stares. It has no mouth, but I know it is laughing. All I can hear around me is t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/GarrettCook/297754/ Every hungry Moloch,Each machine with coalgutsAnd steampipes for limbsFollows the instinct to be ravenous.Ginsberg' s angry angelsAnd the muse of tragedy that strums that blue guitarIn the painting, in the poem, in my head,They do what they do. The villainous instinct, the edible.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/GarrettCook/291054/ An Entry for the Murder Contest http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/GarrettCook/290564/ Woman, you are a drumbeat,When steady you can make me march to war,If you speed up you hold me fast with crashing chaos,Percussive perfection leads me on to stay or go, whichever one you will.Woman, you are a saxophone, Speaking coolsmooth Duke Ellington satisfaction,You are no piano,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/GarrettCook/290142/         I can’t talk to these people anymore                I got my check from Sammy and a name                I will not fi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/GarrettCook/290141/ The start of a noir epic poem http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/GarrettCook/289247/ Suburbs of the Fourth Circle By Garrett CookNoah knew that the Sun would find nothing sympathetic about his depression, no common ground with a young man who wanted to sleep when it wanted nothing more than to rise. On this day he continued his losing battle, shutting his eyes tight, about to .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/GarrettCook/289244/