2060 4 2
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Martin named it “Squishy” for two reasons. The first reason was because it was the noise it made when it came out of the hole in his basement. The second is because it’s what it did to Grandfather...
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206031
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Dizzy but still alive
Inside this conversation
I ask if you have a sister
And if she'll know me
If I'm with you.
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2060107
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The first husband was young and lovely. He had a little nose and long fingers he used for things like planting begonias in my clay pot. I did not do flowers. So that was nice.
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2060179
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I turned on the television last night, and one of the networks had a segment about a girl with no nose.
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2060129
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the Great Way itself is very smooth and straight,/but folks take to the challenge of rough, wild roads.
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2060266
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She was flying back in the morning, returning to a long-distance boyfriend I believed she had cheated on while she was here but didn’t ask about because I thought it would have been too obvious and somehow ungentlemanly.
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2060177
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The transformation in their domineering, sour mother revised her children’s memories of their childhoods.
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20601413
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. . . clinging to life in a shroud of winter air. It veered up five flights to a sweltering summer night on the roof . . .
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206000
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At the time I first went to work for Mr. Byron my family was in a sorrowful state. My dad, much as I can recall, was one of those roving kinds, called himself a carpenter or contractor, depending on the kind of job he was aspiring to, and was subject to f
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20602322
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The painting was on loan from a gallery in Chicago. We stood there connecting the dots.
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206053
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The summer everyone read Faulkner, I read Hemingway. Out of spite.
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20601816
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We die in order to get some rest
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206031
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Mr. Lowell knelt down and put his face in his hands, his knees quickly covered in blood. Sobs.
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2060215
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You got a lot of people, out there
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205910
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There was a man crying, walking his dog
and a woman drove by
on a flat tire
They brought coffee to the tables
in large glasses on white saucers
There’d be long silver spoons
with which to stir in strong
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20592821
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My only brother. Frantic flesh clings to bone.
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205900
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My novel-in-stories, NAN, is now available as an ebook for $6.99. Thanks to everyone who read the first 7 published stories here on Fictionaut.
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205900
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It’s confusing enough to grow up in a place like America, a country without definitive culture, except for ranch dressing and reality TV, but it’s even worse to grow up half one thing, half another, christened a hyphenation of names without connection to
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20591815
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I murdered my inner child/
at 7 and neither denied/
nor confessed the act until now.
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20592319
|
Alice writes three different versions of the letter. The last one is the most tempered, the most like her, but still it is such an unlike-her thing to do. The couple who lives above her has been disrupting her sleep nearly every night for the past three weeks. The woman's…
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2058159
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The violin hung on the wall after that, a witness.
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205856
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This violin of oneself, this rough strum of I, arc of wing over thick rib. This masturbatory chirping like the meat of God clenched in your teeth, an apostrophe giving aloneness possession over the inarticulate, a bridge between chords.
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205700
|
An armpit fart is a simulated sound of flatulence produced by creating a pocket of air between the armpit of a partially raised arm and the hand, then swiftly closing this pocket by bringing the arm close to the torso.
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205797
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A man lives with a woman he loves enough to live with, but not enough to marry and not enough for kids. He knows he could love others enough to marry, enough for kids, but he's not the kind of man to find those women when he's with this woman.Sometimes “love”…
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205700
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Dear Bess —
I go to the First Assembly of God's church. (a Praising Spirit-Filled Fellowship.) It is in Maui. Dr. James Morocco, Senior Pastor. He has been pastoring the church for over twenty years.
My, what a big change I am finding in my new l
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205711
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My best friend and roommate Eliza woke up one morning with the sudden conviction that she had to become very fat, as soon as possible.
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20561613
|
Write a poem in which your father is a dog and you are his leash.
|
20562018
|
or the voice that wants/
to be inscribed/
forgets the sounds
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20562117
|
For my Dad
Happy Father's Day!
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205612
|
Phil was scared.
Not of his own shadow, but of the three men from ConAgra who'd dropped a duffel bag of green outside his den the week before.
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