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I send pronouns on walkabouts to where there are only planes and light
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Night became day and back again in the span of a heartbeat, the familiar strangeness of the sudden change stinging like dust in the eye.
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A bank bag now hung from those teeth—yellow-gray rancid, decaying teeth, strands of tobacco chew laced in between. Those thin pen mark lips could not hide the teeth’s keyhole spaces, shaped by open cavities—the bank bag hung from those teeth. The me
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flash read. have fun *cheers*
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Jade in the emperor’s death
mouth – to the grave – all openings
closed – no breath – no air – no life
to enter to leave – the end should
be silent – you stop my mouth
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Are you a hostile person who gets into trouble when you express your anger? Would you like to annoy the hell out of people and get away with it?
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I kicked your dog, Yes I did, I kicked your dog I kicked your dog Because it urinated on my Afghan rug It bit my maid and it ate my frog It defecated on Shakespeare's sonnet, barked at my psychedelic parrot, salivated over Norman Mailer's bust, snapped at…
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Did you ever have a morning when you just did not want to wake up? Sleep can be marvelous, but dreams not so much. If you believe, here is a tale. "She was awakened by the mushing of her pillow around where her head lay squarely on it. It was not violent,
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94% Battery Power Remaining
Last night I dreamt about a mutt whose tail never learned how to wag, and under a sun that gagged us with heat, the mutt sat stoned with its mouth belching cones of pot smoke. Sometimes the smoke shone orange – sometim
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Over the last 30 days we have seen a radical decrease in our revenue stream. Our Q3 earnings fell dramatically short of what we had projected, and as a result the leadership team has had to look at some difficult cost-reducing measures.
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You kissed me, and my heart stopped beating – it didn’t need to any more. I had your heart to beat for both of us.
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In principle, Sergeant Brock Lumley resisted superstition, but if you were to stop him on any given day he was patrolling Baghdad streets with his rifle squad and ask him to open the front left ammo pouch on his flak vest, he’d get this look on his face..
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I woke up when the smoke alarm insisted. Either the curtains were on fire or I hadn't changed the battery.
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In the beginning there was salt.
God licked the salt and said it was
Good. Then there was light.
And then chocolate.
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I wonder what it would be like to dog-paddle in the middle of the ocean.
I wonder how Jean Auguste Ingres got the flesh tones for “Odalisque.”
I wonder if bees have dreams.
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—Hey, lover man, where’s my breakfast? said Monique, tousling Ben’s hair.
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“Have the tomatoes come in yet?”“Dottie…”Mrs. Dorothea Tilden pointed a trembling finger at Harriet.“You promised me tomatoes, Harry.”Harriet put her hands on her hips, a stance Dorothea knew well. One more sharp word meant fight; two…
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New York, New York The winter drizzle left the streets shiny like in movies and this night Manhattan looked like it should look, vibrant, clean and sparkling. It was…
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The crow in darkness;visual palpitationsunder the street lamp. In the dark morningmy car disrupts the still cold;a blister on earth.Never mind the cat.The Japanese Peace Lillywill steal your last breath.The blacktop highway;a rough scab to cover thedeep man-cut…
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He began life as we all do, an almost indeterminate blob. Ultrasound sonar plotting his outline on screen. The echo chambers of his beating heart dispelling the ectoplasmic impression of mere ghostly existence. His rudimentary …
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We sat around the ocean table and ate eyes on ham
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Miriam forced herself to focus on the kitchen door and on putting one foot in front of the other.
“Is everything alright?” she heard Ada ask the family.
“Of course, everything is fine,” the woman said. “What could be wrong other than the impossible serv
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Let your father stay
through that dinner
when his mistress needed him,
while your mother was on the verge.
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Mr Robertson chuckled gently as he caught the aroma of freshly cooked cinnamon doughnuts and watched the oil leave its fingerprints.
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The feline apotheosis of Ish -
Shroedinger’s cat.
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We were stuck sweating it out on a long suburban plain when you left. Or else we’d mob the one visible hill (in Palos Hills, or Hillside) and turn the televisions on, looking behind us nervously, hopelessly, until every evening became a Wednesday evenin
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Fabulous birds perched nearby, where we were. In their memory there goes the little god, original, in the midst of it all, happiness like anything near the river-mouth. Letting yourself dabble in the femaleness of it. In the lower world or on the playin
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Gee but it’s great after being out late,
Walking my lobster back home.
There’s little risk that she’ll turn into bisque,
Walking my lobster back home.
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“Are you comparing the communists with Hitler?”
“Are you telling me there is no comparison?"
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till the tiny death may we
remain true, me and you, to our flesh and blood and sinew, the
springs and silver in our tiny hearts with vicious teeth and a hard
bone need to fuck
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