1853 5 4
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In this coaly no-time/
strewn with fallen stars,/
you are a roaming panther/
and I am a tangle of snakes.
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1853128
|
On the usefulness of hands.
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18522316
|
They will take you, naked,
and put their tongues and fingers
into intimate, erogenous openings
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185200
|
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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18522719
|
On the bus I sat like an ounce.
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185164
|
When the arguing started, their voices would get louder and louder, till they broke into my dreams. That night, I woke and listened in the dark for what felt like a very long time. Perhaps I should have been afraid, but I wasn't. For one thing, they never
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185163
|
They’ve thrown the painter in the trash upside down with his red pajamas and feet sticking up in the air, with his shoes on. The large red hand of judgement pointing at him, that gives us direction and law and shame, gives us a large red headache.
Whi
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1851129
|
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.
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185187
|
I'd been working for two years as a barista in a Starbuck's in a giant, two-story Borders in an upscale mall on Rt. 355, a main artery between Washington D.C., and Frederick, Maryland. I'd finished my M.F.A in 2000 and was trying to build up steam for more grad…
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1851177
|
The transformation in their domineering, sour mother revised her children’s memories of their childhoods.
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185123
|
Follow me around a bit.
Let me walk you through the rooms, structures, and clouds of my being that reveal junk drawers of "collectibles."
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185193
|
We hit the road, headed west.
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185186
|
"Love, against the dying of the light." (An unusual story about George Whitman, former owner of the revered & beloved Shakespeare & Company bookstore in Paris, France.)
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185165
|
Someday, the Grim Reaper, wrapped in hooded cowl, the thorny stem of a red rose clenched between his teeth, will climb up the garden trellis to my bedroom window
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185153
|
a beautiful cool quiet day
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1850106
|
It’s always fun and easy/
to punish the poor
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18502013
|
You died from a bad heart.
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1850117
|
I walk back home, alone and without the bus fare. Distancing myself from the shadows that float interminably against the drowsy sun. Where frightened boys often roam, going in circles against the long lines of epitaphs and gravestones. Puzzling…
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185043
|
…Professor Wumbat begins.
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185010
|
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.
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185077
|
She came from the land of rumpled sheets. She was the very definition of sex. She was the breeze through the wind chimes of his heart. One might say that she actually invented the orgasm. All mirages are this way. Perfect until they disappear. They
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1850153
|
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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185042
|
I had the hair of a metal god, cracking it against the air whenever the stereo belched fists.
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184973
|
He had an addiction to elevating himself to higher levels of potential: some would call this ambition.
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184930
|
Harley Davidson fanny pack
|
184965
|
I peeled off a hundred. For the screwdriver, I said. The kid shook his head, made a pushing-away gesture. You need it worse’n I do right now, he said.
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184972
|
He had long since quit listening to the incessant clanging of the bell. He stood, ringing the bell, squinting into the setting sun, nauseous from the car exhaust, his body aching for alcohol.
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18493817
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His face was cold and hard as marble. Rudy’s angular features shuddered and twitched in the darkness.
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1849115
|
Hippy health food. It all began with Hannah’s homemade granola.
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1849910
|
Together at last, we'd gotten this far toward the warm end of those sweet Promises we made, once, with our sincerest written and passed down smart Words, done all on our own deeds, with some real gusto, and offered them as Christmas Lights,…
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