1493 6 6
|
Rises monstrous out of the Baltoro GlacierPlaying poker with oxygen levelsPlays leap frog with embolisms.Malice and vanity join forces somurder guns the air even beforethe Death Zone. Down suits, bold and cockyregisters the climber's ambitions. The Serac , a…
|
135460
|
Where the fuck are my keys?Where the hell is my phone?Where the fuck are my keys?Where the hell is my phone?Where the fuck are my keys?Where the hell is my phone?Where the fuck are my keys?Where the hell is my phone?Where the fuck are my keys?Where the hell is my…
|
193164
|
Light. And shade. Line and shape. Colour, form and perspective. Wall, wood, ceiling or canvas. Pigment in eggyolk or linseed oil. Stroked by brush or spread by knife. On small panels or plastered on vast spaces. All these problems to be worked over and solved. Then …
|
134161
|
removing oneself sometimes occurs only on the page
|
199163
|
Seph loved to scare her mother in the garden by picking up a worm with the tines of her gardening fork and chasing her with it, the dirty-pink body twisting on the end. Dee would scream a little, always eyes on the worm, and run slowly, as if…
|
129060
|
and still every time I walked up there - so it can't be the cycling - I was nervous I would do it wrong
|
180964
|
A junkyard Bison seems an odd choice over the usual dog, but it did the job--trampling trespassers, vagrants and unautorized salvagers with a violent and admirable efficiency
|
155062
|
You master their secrets. Mirror adjusters... Air conditioning knobs... Fuel door releases... Changing their satellites to Mojo Nixon. But you never really know them.
|
125165
|
"Time is an ocean, but it ends at the shore. You may not see me tomorrow."--Bob DylanThey're writing poems, but not for me. Guess I'll write one for my own. For nobody that I know now. It's a pretty lonely world for someone who sings, not you, not with…
|
62962
|
|
175263
|
My fingers are shining
in the underwater afterlife of memory
searching for the nipple-sized mollusks
searching for the solid nature of things
left over from having lived a life
at all
That new rain smell, specifically
I remember that,
|
177767
|
When he took Medieval German Lit in graduate school, Ackermann read Der Ackermann aus Böhmen by Johannes von Tepl. His professor was amused both by his last name and that his grandparents were Germans from Bohemia. Of course, only his grandmother was from Bohemia and…
|
154265
|
Do you want this, you ask, and hand me a blue silk shirt of hers
with small yellow flowers. I'm afraid to say no,
in case it makes you remember all over again.
|
110962
|
His beard is an eighteenth-century forest / in south central France
|
104164
|
"The opposite of fear is not courage but compassion."--Peter J. Gomesyou are going to die amost pitiful death from your own tearsof crushing boredom. Crying overyour self you will probablynever understand how it is asimple blue-capped flower savesthe world,…
|
160364
|
"You'll be alright! Just pinch your nose!"
|
29865
|
|
174364
|
And she warms her hands on fresh-cut gizzards, And he forgets the taste of honeyed peaches
|
172166
|
They were all sitting naked in a sauna and drinking Diet Coke, with droopy ball sacks and sweat rolling over massive man titties and paunches. Yahweh sat on an upper bench, wearing dark goggles to protect his eyes from the brightness of his own still radi
|
218662
|
|
142461
|
Daddy comes home, calls us to his room, makes us stand in line, tells us to do it again...
|
144763
|
Whenever trees or limbs fell in isolate forests—well, no narrators were ever to be found, not even beneath the larger tree trunks or under the fallen limbs.
|
157966
|
I sneak glances of her unhooking the clasp, taking it off, so that her back is bare, and I can see the muscles, the bones underneath move as she puts the new one on...
|
115764
|
as you are, there's a big floating arm that separates both of us from each other. Widening, like a river, it touches us together often, but still keeps us drifting apart. The banks of your new life have different weeds and flowers…
|
110965
|
That was the year I got my Daisy bee-bee gun for Christmas....
|
333461
|
He is my daughter's son and his father's worst enemy.
|
143363
|
It was the losers’ bar in my neighborhood.
|
183566
|
The man and the whore lay in bed together. It was a cold night and they were warmed by the heat beneath the…
|
154560
|
A needle passed through my lungs. My breathing made the needle pierce deeper. I felt anger rise up within me but I determined not to cry. – I had cried enough. No more tears. Arossi looked at me, probably expecting me to cry. I didn’t
|
111463
|
Spring break that year, (1963) I spent nearly every minute with Lynda. Her taste for sex was unquenchable once we’d gotten started. We did it in every position possible. The sitting position in the front seat of the car, which my brother Herb had to expla
|
