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If ever I read a poem aloud
It will not be from a podium’s shelter
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Slut Whore has every Barbie on the market lined up sitting on the windowsill along her bedroom wall, and all their best clothes and accessories.
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A team of reggae journalists played and an unknown man came after work for me in a kilt.
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Here’s how you do it. First you get a ladder, a long one.
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There is a price. It's on the back. If you turn it around you'll see. It isn't expensive. Everything's okay.
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I said he was cold. I said I like cold.
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bones and shuttered windows
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Texas Route 29 is not a straight line.It traces the perimeter of our own Georgetowncompelled west kicking off shit-stained bootsgreeted by green and yeller' John Deereignored by motley cattle, heads bowed weighed low with marrow-filled horns.A Jack Nicklaus golf course…
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**I think Bridgestone Tire borrowed this story for a commercial. Maybe not, see video and decide.**
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When we say "Nanoism is looking for twitter-fiction serials for its current contest," this is one example of what we mean.
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We make our way into the Colosseum–excuse me, the Prince Spaghetti Colosseum–and take in the beauty of Italy’s national pastime; sadistic cruelty to wacko religious cults.
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I tell people that we leave out food for the creatures to appease the skunk gods.
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I realize that to say, "I do not believe in God" is footsteps away from "I do not rely on God" and "God left me."
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The sign that informs tourists that there is
no access to the Hollywood Sign is the
most ignored sign in all of Los Angeles.
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Eric was born with three testicles.
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// opening act: van featuring balloon featuring drugs
// headliner: lubv ya babe
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"covered in a sheen of sweat, flowers of salt bloom on my T-shirt"
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the last, best//
analgesic--/
guaranteed
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It’s not every day that a girl like me gets greeted with a hairy beast that orgles and spits when excited. Didn’t help none that it only had one eye. Poor little ole bugger.
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If opposites attract, that might explain it, Doreen and I. Conjugally blissed through thick and thin. Forty some odd years. Since June of sixty five.
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We argue on the way down. We bicker on the walk to the bistro. I get coffee and croissants at the bar and bring them back to our table, and she is still talking, proving me wrong, when I return.
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When my mother called to tell me what had happened with Francine, she was crying. The minute Francine left, my mother understood that woman had bamboozled her. We got on the next jet down to L.A. and rented a car. Gina and I drove all the way out past Ont
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I find Vermeer and Bach and feel/
for a moment a shower of my own world’s/
prismatics.
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each act of creation is a jolt of expectation
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with cool confidence
and believable body language
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on this scenic route you will likely encounter a handful of bicycle spoke lobster traps.
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Grey would rather be in the trees or down by the river. When a wind comes up, he grabs the wooly blanket from the hook in the barn and calls Phoebe. They stretch the blanket out between them and sail into the grassy meadow that slopes down the hill from t
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