Heads Will Roll

Ethel and I were driving home from someplace. We passed an accident on the other side of the road. She said, “Don’t look! Don’t look!” I looked. I saw a head rolling down the street.

We used to jump the train for kicks. Well, I did it once. But it sounds better in the first sentence. When I did it the train was barely moving. And I didn’t actually get on the train. I just jumped up on the railing, held on for about thirty or forty feet and then jumped back off. It was fun. Not exactly daredevil fun but at least I could say I hopped a train.

The train ran right through the center of town under a bridge. Some older kid jumped the train and fell and got his head chopped off.

The chief of police was arrested for shooting somebody with a shotgun.

The chief of police had his head blown off with a shotgun.

Doug Bostwick hung himself by the head.

Randy was retarded because he opened the closet door and found his father hanging in there by his head, dead.

I was riding my bike fast down Partridge St in front of the house. My front tire turned sideways and I went flying over the handlebars. I landed on the pavement head first. Later that day I went back and looked at a patch of my head skin on the asphalt.

This lady with huge tits rode a horse up the street. Her tits went boing boing boing, up and down. Clop clop clop.

About the author


Eric Jennings is a poet, an invocateur, an accidental yogi and he dabbles in patamysticism which is the spiritual branch of pataphysics.

Add comment


This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Eric Jennings

My name is Eric Jennings and this is one of my poetry and writing blogs. I am a survivor of childhood sexual abuse and most of the work on this site is borne from those experiences.