1936 13 4
|
. . . she didn’t bow her head.
|
19362316
|
They will take you, naked,
and put their tongues and fingers
into intimate, erogenous openings
|
193676
|
She realised that things you can't prove can be more intimate than the things you know to be true.
|
193693
|
She wrapped her legs around him. His hand barely held the rope and later he could not have said if it happened above or below the water’s surface.
|
193633
|
I can tread water like this for months maybe longer
|
193600
|
There’s an old journalism adage, usually uttered by editors who haven’t had their butts out of a comfy leather newsroom chair in years, which goes: “You know… the news just doesn’t walk in the door.” ... But sometimes, it does.
|
193662
|
The question posed a voluptuous riddle. Were these frenzied silhouettes
gestures of Jackson Pollock’s dribble?
|
193611
|
"Ah, finally the rain stopped pouring!" She opens the window to let the sticky air out of the house. The colours outside have changed. The air is clear and the sky turns into light pink while the sun is drowning at the horizon. She takes a deep breath. The…
|
193500
|
Where was it? Tino wondered, craning his neck, plastic bag in hand. He would have sworn there was a Barnes & Noble along this stretch. Had it closed since his mother had last been in the hospital two years ago?
|
1935109
|
We watch the news together every day.
10 minutes total; flashes of tragedy broken up with fluffy current events.
|
193511
|
What? No, no, where did my world go? I was in the middle of… something. What's going on? What's stroking my face?
|
193511
|
“They picked me up in their spaceship about noon,” Austin Grantham says to me while pulling up an apple crate to use as a stool.
|
19352719
|
On the bus I sat like an ounce.
|
1935115
|
Hippy health food. It all began with Hannah’s homemade granola.
|
193521
|
Enter Tipitina’s – the rotation hole
where electric, shoeless uncles
allocate their copper goulashes
to catch white dripwater.
|
193554
|
Her pudgy face, flour-coated and sugary and so life-nurturing in the past, had a different spark now, a searching look I’d seen as soon as she opened the door.
|
193587
|
Don't sleep. Tiny orange Balloons like seahorses are bobbing This way and that trying To get your hair to lift Off its marvelously mud- Swamped and pillowy support beams, blue sea strand by green. Don't you want to see…
|
19352417
|
He wore his hip in his hips, his lipsShe wanted to know if he would lick the edgesWhen he pulled the coffee cup from his mouthA bit of foam clung to his moustacheShe watched it there, wondering if he wouldTwirl it off with his fingersOr lick it, his tongue darting out like…
|
193473
|
He had an addiction to elevating himself to higher levels of potential: some would call this ambition.
|
19341613
|
Write a poem in which your father is a dog and you are his leash.
|
193400
|
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.
|
1934129
|
the Great Way itself is very smooth and straight,/but folks take to the challenge of rough, wild roads.
|
193421
|
For ten minutes I would have to sit perfectly still on the edge of her bed, thinking of Road Runner and the Flash and wishing I could do anything but sit there with my feet in warm, foamy water.
|
19341312
|
But by day the birds / of prey were in control.
|
1934104
|
Who puts Vaseline
on the forefinger
of Lenin?
I want to know
|
193400
|
I thought of Ruth burrowed deep in the nest of her closet and quickly jumped into the footlocker. I nearly stopped breathing as he entered his bunker.
|
1933103
|
He wanted me to learn the business, to become the son he always wanted but never had. I eagerly complied.
|
19331715
|
There he was. Minnesota Fats, short and pudgy, jowly and blond-haired.
|
19332117
|
For my Dad
Happy Father's Day!
|
193310
|
I've been invited to speak at Emerson College in Boston—it will be the summer of 2012, and I'll be speaking on running an online literary magazine; in this case, my own, Anderbo.com.
|
