Roxy Gordon | The Sun Magazine
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Roxy Gordon

Roxy Gordon lives in Dallas, Texas. His writing has been published in Rolling Stone, The Village Voice and other publications. His work is also included in a recent anthology, Earth Power Coming, published by the Navajo Community College Press in Psaile, Arizona.

— From July 1984
Essays, Memoirs, and True Stories

Breeds

We live in perilous times. All human beings have always lived in perilous times, but the perils of our times are our own and we know them well. For several years now, a sizable group of Americans have seen Indians — or the Indian way — as an approach to the diffusion of some peril.

July 1984
Fiction

Pilgrims

When the Indians came to town, Charlie Tabor, the barber, called old Dock Middleton and asked him to come by the barber shop. Then Charlie Tabor needed an excuse to keep the Indians at the barber shop till Dock Middleton could get there, so he told the Indians they’d have to wait until Pink Issacs came to town to give them permission to go out to Bead Mountain. Pink Issacs did indeed own Bead Mountain, but nobody needed permission to visit the place. Charlie Tabor called Pink and Pink said it was a curious story, but he guessed it was true. Bead Mountain was called Bead Mountain, after all, because of all the clay Indian beads that used to lay scattered about. Pink said he wouldn’t mind meeting the Indians and taking them, but he was, that day, too damn busy pulling rusty pipe on his windmill and he said to tell them to feel free to camp there if they felt like it.

September 1983
Essays, Memoirs, and True Stories

To Move The Stars

If your quarks are bound by cosmic glue to the quarks of stars, then control your quarks and

MOVE
THE
STARS.

December 1980
Essays, Memoirs, and True Stories

Artists And Magicians

The adornment of utilitarian design began as protection or sign. In response to dream or invocation, a man meant by adornment of his dwelling and person to take charge of himself and not leave to chance his relationship with man and mystery.

August 1980
Essays, Memoirs, and True Stories

There Is No Time

One clear afternoon early in the fall, I saw the moon, gray-silver in the high western sky and with pure clarity, I realized:

The moon is not there.
There is no moon.
There are no planets.
There are no stars.

April 1980
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