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You're so insecure; you probably think this story is about you.Well, you would be right.
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First off, don't worry about the marriage. It ain't gonna last. But don't worry. People will drive you nuts with that tiresome old chestnut, “there's more than one fish in the sea.” Thing is, they're right. Listen. I'm not talking salmon and sea bream…
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To a desert island I pick a book of crosswords for my one item. It is a desert island. What could be more practical? I awake in the middle of the night, an itch in my throat. I blow my nose. Weird gobbets of blood ring my Kleenex. It drizzles out now, wet here, gelatinous…
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The woman finished packing her things as the man walked in. They looked at one another for a long moment. …
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We made a plan to see each other to chat more and so we did. I went to his little house in the neighboring town and walked in to a kind of time warp. It was a large living room, made so by it's emptiness. It was stark in the vastness it seemed, but dark.
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"What the fuck are you looking at, Carl?" She snaps, turning her head toward me as the truck edges off the road and into a field of tobacco, into those broad green leaves of ancient sacristy and modern ablution. This is not a blissful kind of field. It is not full…
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Noon sun, like a restless master
on my back
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"...innocent butterflies of pollution
trapped and entangled,"
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And now its done! Five months read! This book is batoning in my head. Its eleven o'clock AM and hot as hell, even the breeze, billowing nets through the sliding screen adds sweat, cuts me down to size. I will needs again to…
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“The first thing you must remember,” Polly tells the Levensons, “is that every penny you spend on your guests is that much less you can spend on your horses.”
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Further down a small group of men lolled near a doorway.
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We agreed I would go back up
to the cabin for another bottle.
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Why do I love you? The monster that you are?
I love you for revealing to me my strength
My determination, my will
My need to survive
I love you for showing me the gift that is living
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i dream a thousand interconnected pictures. i dream the future. i dream we are together. i dream i love you. i dream i am forgiven. i dream you care. i dream nice dreams. i go to the bank. i deposit my check. i pay the rent. i pet the cat. i…
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Prospero's in his cell and I'm in mine.
He drowns his books, I'm drowning in mine.
He exercises his power–I'm powerless to exercise.
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Just like that. He heard her words clearly from the top floor of the five story apartment building. The unexpected change in weather made it mandatory for him to open his window.
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“I need an ambulance, we found a baby in a ditch.”
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I met Lizzie after her break up with Brad. Big-Dick-Brad she used to call him. That’s ok, I’m not a man, I don’t have penis envy, I feel sorry for men who can’t please the masses like a fruiterer.
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“3.9 million dollars,” she whispered to the window.
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Speaking of stiff nipples, I heard you once wanted to become a painter, because of your fondness for nipples. Feeling like Gauguin and his little Polynesian women/girls, are we? So, you're going to try to out-paint God, are you, Mr. Sistine Chapel of the
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In a field of barley, I see you, ...
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Enough, Trump.We've had it my dear, with your pink ties, your hairs, your swagger, towers, your plenty of monies,your tempers, your honeys. I don't speak for all, not at all, but for many who never did like your style or bile, your tenacious temerity,…
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The night is a jelly slosh, a fertile rumble, a rhumba, black and seeping, thick. An arm rises.
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We are the miserable, annoyed, dismayed sick. We slouch on black naugahyde chairs too pathetic to reach for magazines. The computer is down the young receptionist has explained to each of us in young, florid style, complete with “I…
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Passing us in a delicate swirl of light perfume and healthy girl sweat, three bare midriff elfin, baby dykes with pencil thin eyebrows, and chic art hair cuts, swaggered in like cool young gunfighters straight off the cover of Bad Baby Butch Vogue
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her: what are you worried about? me: the dog sitter.
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Do you think we die when we age?Or when a car runs over our hearts?We die slowly, minute by minute, every secondBy the time you read this, you've died a little
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My cousin had put them up last year, showed me when we stood on her bed as her fingers pointed, traced over the outlines, then turned out the lights, so that I could see them glow.
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As black as his socks with a hole in them she used to sew while watching. The octopus has three hearts you know. Yes, No and Maybe.
As black as inkpots, inkjets, as black as typewriter ribbons and the Gutenberg press, as black as the ink of a trillion
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