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We pull up under the port cochère (which I am NOT allowed to call ‘the car tent’, even though I built it) just as the front door opens. Jackson, our eldest, saunters out with a dish rag over his bare shoulder like he owns the place.
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29865
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we all die from the bottom up
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81510
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what i will always remember of you is of that singular sunday / when a black lock of hair brushed against your cheek
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1564107
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Look at her. She doesn't want to be here. The kiss and “wouldn't miss it for the world” was as empty as her crossed arms, crossed legs, and jittery foot were loaded. She attacked the foam of her latte with a tiny red straw. I wanted to scream. Complain about the…
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There's a potent multimedia declaration Flying eagles starred and striped Mocking cartoon independence Where every promise shines Not every veteran's hero Chequered drug misuse Glorious public relations Concealed a…
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126810
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One of these days
we aren’t going to believe
whatever they tell us.
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"In the shit the dogs circle, talking of a dead bitch, maybe Merkel" - Michelangelo's poem of a stultified flower that never emulsifies, an orange California poppy of pink-gold drenched in urine and a horse in either burns bright whinnies and trollops neigh a pipping…
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Any God we could respect/
would listen, kind, to prayers,/
compassionate but resolute –
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unsteady, they try to rise
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In her cleavage, Mark is able to discern a golden heart with the image of an arrow piercing it. A bow is super-imposed over both.
“I see you are a devotee of Cupid.” Mark states.
“I notice that you are a follower of Bacchus.” Diana winks.
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He trudged up the steep, antique, spiral staircase to his study. Many hours had been spent in the sanctuary of this room, studying, praying, sleeping; however, now his intentions were much different.
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On the river he rows a dory. It is filling with water. There is a rectangular hole in the bottom.
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Reality winks at us then scampers off
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She reached out her arms and spoke to the moon, "I ran from my fears, from loving too soon." She gazed at the heavens and cried to the stars, "I could not promise him all of my heart." She wiped away her tears and laughed at the trees, "Not a soul on this earth would…
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17282010
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The contrast can be summed up in a sip.
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the sun is quiet like the mountains,
the birds except for their wings
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Cavett asked McCarthy what she thought was overrated about Hellman. McCarthy–never known to mince words–replied “Every word she writes is a lie, including ‘and’ and ‘the.'"
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However could anyone get Joyce scholarship mixed up with physical anthropology?
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I was about sixteen or seventeen when James Miller had a stroke and died. He was a friend of my father's and a preacher-guy. The last time our church had been that full was at the barbecue the weekend after the church was built. Somehow, the structure went…
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They shake, shake, while mouths say the words.
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Now, as we sat on lawn chairs /
on the balcony to watch the meteor shower
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"At a bare minimum it deserves to be a major cult hit."
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A dead deer on the side of the road and the older boys not listening to her as they stab its eye with a stick.
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141932
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it felt fucking awesome at that moment, in that way only little things can feel huge and life affirming
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For the new year, I´ve given up palm oil.
Made shopping a whole lot harder.
Damn orangutans tugging at my conscience.
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133743
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Breathe a stench of Eton musk...
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Instead we dunked the men in vats of grease and boiling water. Instead we tore apart the books from which they emerged. Instead we found the graves of their mothers and detonated bombs.
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Also in development,/
the anatomically perfect robot/
pool boy and naughty maid,
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