Angus McGregor

Abstract

Angus McGregor B.D. Pancake (bio) Angus McGregor lies brittle as ice,With snow tucked up to his jaws,Somewhere tonight where the hemlock moans,And cracks in the wind like a straw, Angus went a cruising the woods last month,With a blanket roll on his back,With never an ax, a dirk, or gunOr compass in his pack. The hills at thirty below have teeth,McGregor," said I, "You're daftTo tackle the woods like a simple child."But he looked at me and laughed. He flashed his teeth in a grin and said,"The earth is an open book;I've followed the woods for forty years;I know each cranny and crook." I've battled her weather, her winds, her brutes,I've stood with them toe to toe,I can beat them back with my naked fists,And answer them blow for blow." Angus McGregor sleeps under the stars,With an icicle gripped in his hand,Somewhere tonight where the grim-lipped peaksBrood over a haggard land. Oh the face of the moon is dark tonight,And dark the gaunt winds sigh;And the hollow laughter troubles meIn the wild wolves' cry. [End Page 50] B.D. Pancake Breece D'J Pancake (1952-1979) was a writer who was raised in Milton, West Virginia. His middle name was Dexter, and when he converted to Catholicism he added the middle name, "John." He accepted The Atlantic Monthly's typo which separated his middle names with an apostrophe. He published two stories in The Atlantic Monthly before his suicide. These and a story published in 1982 after his death are available full-text on their website. The Stories of Breece D'J Pancake has remained in print continuously since its posthumous publication in 1983. Copyright © 2012 Berea College