1777 14 9
|
When Uncle Dan got sent to the Alzheimer's ward, the ladies licked their lips. Fresh meat.
|
177765
|
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.
|
1777129
|
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.
|
177775
|
A secret search rolled from Odette's eyes. A gulch split her down the middle and she had the world believing this was the way she liked it. Odette was a woman who spent entire days bending backward within herself, never letting on that she was…
|
177751
|
One year, she got a kite.
|
17771816
|
captured by his lens and plates/
before humidity and hydrocarbons/
smudge the crisp clean lines
|
177732
|
He wasn’t there for the beginning or the end. In the beginning, he was still a wild thing. Nothing more than a voice in the chorus of the Dark Continent, back when it was a thing of terrible beauty and attracted people like the old man; people who breathe
|
177700
|
wrap me in the soft, cool blanket of night. waning,the moon peers down at melike the heavy-lidded eye of some cyclops. and if I be lost like poor Odysseus,cloak me in the soft, warm wool of night. and if my eyes fail me like old Tiresias,stitch the cloth with…
|
177742
|
Why do men become explorers? he asked. Because they want to cannibalize the unknown; to leave the chemicals, the furniture (and, yes, the shrew) behind; to make their way hi ho into the brush, whose weeds and lianas remain empty of the exhortations of Jesus Christ, whose…
|
177732
|
The ideas just came to them. "Nothing On" consisted of a television on a small stand, playing an endless loop of "Jersey Shore." "Shopping Bores Me" was a men's flannel shirt from American Apparel on an otherwise empty rack.
|
17771210
|
Christ walks the streets of Venice,/has long since become a regular . . .
|
177685
|
For the next two hours, Ed goes nonchalantly about his business, buck naked the whole time. He putters around the house, writes e mails, waters plants, vacuums the rug and sweeps the porch. I pretend to ignore his nudity
|
177664
|
My cousin had put them up last year, showed me when we stood on her bed as her fingers pointed, traced over the outlines, then turned out the lights, so that I could see them glow.
|
17761110
|
Slip me in Between the cracks in your schedule Between the sheets of your bed Between your memories and your fears Between your eyes and the moon where I'll twinkle at you Slip me in somewhere, I won't disturb you Won't make you want to push me away Let…
|
177602
|
I might as well just keep driving. Past my exit. Beyond my job. Just drive. Until the tank runs out of gas. A blank future is better than this bleak one.
|
177621
|
He had expected more -- at least his grandfather's classic Packard touring car.
|
177665
|
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
|
177561
|
Bearing the smell of paper on her fingertips. Ink in her hair.
|
1775129
|
in which creative destruction holds the heads of entire populations beneath the surface of the water in bathtubs until the bubbles stop
|
1775126
|
She bought her first gerbil at the age of nine. She wondered if he would die from endless logrolling. When he died from natural causes, she refused to bury him and kept a distance from the first boy who kissed her--Thomas J. Hobbit. The next year a twister swept…
|
177511
|
I hear the car door slam. Steve, about to duck daddy-duty: Just gonna take a run to the Quickway. "Rudy," I say, "go get in the car. Tell Papo I said Wait."
|
177501
|
I wonder how much time she has left. I think she’s seventeen. I don’t know for sure because she was already grown when I got her from the pound, just before Christmas, years ago this was --back when I had hair and hope.
|
1775169
|
She was as distant as Mao, someone I never met, but whom everyone carried in their eyes,
|
177500
|
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
|
17751712
|
A starved hunchbacked figure covered in blanket gently steers a one eyed dog along with him. A four legged shadow serving as his longtime companion against the all-consuming vacuum of the universe. A friend for all times.A thin scar runs from his cheekbone to…
|
17751816
|
We die in order to get some rest
|
177576
|
His eyes drift over the body of every
woman who enters Starbucks, even though
he’s old enough to be their father or grandfather,
still his eyes are aware of every shape passing by,
refusing to let go, and die.
Maybe they’re speaking Polish or
|
177473
|
He had an addiction to elevating himself to higher levels of potential: some would call this ambition.
|
1774116
|
It is certain. The roofs are hats for the houses because you wear a hat in the rain or the snow or even and sometimes especially the sun. The houses are curious. They keep their hats on at night. The downspouts for run-off water are strands of hair such as…
|
177487
|
Once upon a time, before there was Prairie, there was Swamp.
Therein lived Salamander and Snake. High above them, in the tops of Cypresses lived Woodpecker.
|
