Bigfoot Tells a Story about Bigfoot Enthusiasts
We sit around. We talk
who love us. We don’t
give a fuck.
We want you
to know we ate D.B. Cooper,
pasted our hovels with twenties.
We lifted his body like a god’s
from a stream, made a bed of needles
in a draw, laid him on a pillow of green.
Could there be a prayer?
Could there be a leaf that needs
a pulley of rope,
half-bubble of silk
to float quiet to Earth
as a fog?
And what would it be, this prayer?
A god we never knew
but heard the stories of his quests
to find us, bring us home:
here is one of them.
He will not close his eyes.
Burrs of stream ice snag our coats.
If we knew how, we’d swear to Christ.
Paul David Adkins
Paul David Adkins is still waiting for a response to the postcard he mailed to "Resident Skunk Ape," Andytown, Fla., USA.
His email address is
An artist's impression of the elusive D.B. Cooper,
who held a Boeing 727 to ransom, back in 1971, and then
vanished with $200,000. His current whereabouts are