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I take the plastic off of the last videotape and stick it in the VCR. I make sure the channel is on 6. Still a commercial. I get my notebook, turn it to the next page and write today's date on top. I get ready. I don't really like the back and forth banter the other news…
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He nuzzled the breasts with his face for a moment, his leathery skin and tangles of hair tickling her in the process.
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Ben had us over, me and him and his boy, Benji, to look at the supernova. Ben was always coming up with these things with the telescope. Jupiter's moons, Saturn's rings. On his wedding night he made everybody stop dancing and run out to the golf course so he could show us…
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“Snobs,” our head housekeeper Denise called them in her deep voice, while peering out from under her glasses at me.
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threads of Cocoa Krispies
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“I’m haunted,” she says, “by so many things–earth shoes, amulets, seventies mood rings.”
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She didn’t say yes, but she didn’t say no. She didn’t say anything. So I helped her to the car and we didn’t talk along the way.
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I was like a bullet shot from a university tower
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“There’s cheap land at Cudlee Creek perfect for breeding long-haired rabbits,” he added. “They can’t jump high so fencing costs are low.”
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And in the dark caves a new secret, hidden from flyby probes and the imagination of men. In these new caves, names for the loved ones, Bradbury, Clarke, Rover
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Breathe a stench of Eton musk...
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The songs that she used to sing to him still dance in his head while he wrangles equations. The stars in the cosmos spell out her name.
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It wasn't hidden, exactly, but kept in a place where she wouldn't be expected to look: a photograph of Roger, naked and supine, looking at the camera without surprise.
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At that time I was meeting Jacob at 3:30 each afternoon in Joan of Arc Park so we could walk dogs together. This was our job.
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A convoy of military vehicles is heading into the city as we are heading out.
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Reams of saggy bunting intersect the streets.
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I charm as any stone-sculpted dream: / men grind themselves to dust on my breasts / in solitude poets spill and spew /
enraptured of my adamant clay.
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Ghostriders in the syand rainbows in my mindor was itrainbow in the skyghostriders in my mind?I can't remember ...And apparently this body is not 200 characters long, so I add some text so this pearl too can be read (ahum) My body is only 170 characters long, snif,…
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Some of the guys wear earplugs. They wear ‘em because they don’t wanna hear it. Oscar Livitt fucking. Nobody looks.
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The plane passes the runway, dips sharply, its shadow straight down below, too cold in the cabin, the sun hitting your arm like a machete below, it is 94, the humidity too, it has just rained for 3 days, it never rains this time of year......
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"Mama skipped the training bras and just gave me her old bras. I'll be 25 before I can wear her old bras..."
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A sizzling as skin and sinew melt, fall away. "Scream if you need to scream, child." And I scream, and her song gains strength. The warmth of her around me. It is time.
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Lipstick on the bolt, she told herself, if it's no good in the slot anymore.
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It was time to go sit outside in the sunlight with the gang of trust-funders, just to see what was new in the world of high finance and falling stock prices. “So, what's happening with the economy in China?” I asked. And they just stared at me as if I had
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This story* is brought to you by
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You gather their faces in the palms of your hands and their purple eyes blink, blink, unseeing.
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I give you the rattle of the rattlesnake. I give you a daub of creosote. I give you the metaphysics of glue.
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He'd sit or stand, as if this was common
to see: in the street walking by, such a man.
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