1868 22 15
|
The river’s not/
a river but/
a FEMA map/
of flooding probabilities.
|
1868115
|
i.More and more, for Megan LeMaster, each beginning was its own end. She couldn't bear to buy flowers or dresses that seemed too beautiful. Friendships formed, endured, gave out in a handshake. Each deed in life had an immediate, inescapable…
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186720
|
“Nothing we have here can stop them,” the Lumi said, “We were hoping there might be something in your world we might try.”
“Even if we had something, how would I get it to you?
”We are working on that, in the meantime, will you help us?”
I
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18671815
|
We're not here for idle chit-chat, or ESPN, or fish tacos.
|
18672216
|
Maybe she would get married and have a baby, she said. Not with me, I said
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1867129
|
the Great Way itself is very smooth and straight,/but folks take to the challenge of rough, wild roads.
|
186700
|
Caroline smiles before reaching out to touch a shapeless shadow dancing on the wall, closing her eyes as the bumps in the primer serve brail to oncoming dreams.
|
186751
|
The waitress says,
“That’s a memory,”
as the smoke dances around her head.
|
186798
|
My brother died in his sleep almost two months ago. He was 25. He was addicted to pharmaceuticals. Two days before he died, he fell asleep at the wheel and crashed his truck into a highway sign. It was the last thing he owned. He had been living with m
|
186721
|
The trail wound through oak trees and climbed up a hill. The sun was high and hot whenever we came out from the cover of the trees.
We stopped under a tree.
“OK old man,” Leda said. She came to me and kissed me. Then she was unbuttoning my pants and kne
|
18671311
|
When the planes crashed,when the levees broke,when the ground shook,there was a song I dreamed of,humming subsonic,a chorus of voices and prayersuncorked like the little brown jugthat holds all the love and memories.In the outback, Aborigines believewe create the world by…
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1867153
|
The Nurse left work at five o’clock, walking down Dekalb Avenue toward Flatbush. He didn’t frequent the bar closest to the hospital, although he guessed other nurses and doctors from Brooklyn Hospital did. But he liked to pretend that he cared about h
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18671813
|
—Was it true, what you wrote in that poem?
—Pretty true.
—What do you mean “pretty true”? Was it true or wasn’t it?
—It was as close as you get to truth in poems.
|
186642
|
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...
|
1866129
|
Some time ago, I began to write you letters with the idea of helping your newspaper become a more complete map of our little shared world.
|
18662018
|
or the voice that wants/
to be inscribed/
forgets the sounds
|
186697
|
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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186664
|
Gorgonzola. It's what she was to bring this time. Plumtree's potted meat. What it was last time.
|
18661614
|
In the St. Mark's Bar and Grill romance is a speedy thing, a blurred whir of grope, kiss, connect. The tricky thing is timing: to leave in time for the boozy love of the hour to carry through to full, naked contact. Some succeed of course. Others overstay, hang past the…
|
186622
|
“Pupilo Durcál!” She yelled. “You stupid pendejo!” He limped along without another glance. Rosa suddenly realized her dreams all week were really omens.
|
1866102
|
I never pulled it off, never rode an atom through a super collider with a nose full of cocaine and a drink in my hand. Never was a bullet, zooming through the city, skin pressed to bone, nerves on fire. Never was an atom bomb, ever-exploding in slow motion, ripping off…
|
186662
|
The question posed a voluptuous riddle. Were these frenzied silhouettes
gestures of Jackson Pollock’s dribble?
|
186500
|
In se'enties style serenading strut
A passin all the pretty birds in kin',
The feathered Stetson ‘clipsin crimson suit,
A whistlin Dixie blues ‘cross county-lines.
|
186563
|
|
186566
|
She sang will you still need me
|
186522
|
Most people assume I’m gay, and have assumed I’m gay since I was in fifth grade. Maybe sooner. Maybe fifth grade is just my first memory of recognizing what other people believed true about me. But coming out as a gay man in 1987, when I was in fifth gra
|
186532
|
“You wanna fight.”
And I say yes.
And he says –
“First, we gotta make out.”
|
186500
|
Jack thinks I should carry a loaded gun in my purse.
|
186511
|
I spent the whole day at Oliveira's, writing furiously in my notebooks. The words came pouring out. Just before seven, Darrell picked me up. I grew anxious driving down to Parker's studio because it was in a bad area on the border between Oakland
|
186400
|
His footing unsure and his clothes covered in vomit, he grabs the railing and stumbles up the three steps. He pulls off his shirt, finds a cleaner area on the puke-covered garment, wipes sweat off his forehead, dripping wet from the humid, stormy night, a
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