2033 21 14
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I don't want / to write about the body indulged, desires / denied, tortures invented, pleasures innate
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203285
|
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
|
2032109
|
It’s a little known fact that eels are often lost in translation – only the spotted variety, not the striped or the common and certainly not the electric.... I think about that lovely hippie girl and her knowledge of eels, sometimes.
|
2032104
|
What happens to a town when all of its songbirds go on strike?
|
203242
|
The stern tone of the chairwoman made him miss his mother, the snap of her accusations, the sting of her belt on the backs of his legs.
|
203298
|
“As you do it unto the least of these so you do it unto me.” —Jesus These children that you murder are not your enemy. They are not your pain or your personal sorrow. They are, if anything, flowers blowing and …
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20321917
|
A flash in seven chapters.
|
20321911
|
It's been sixteen days since I spoke with another soul. I don't mind much, but I know enough about people to know most would think I'm mighty odd. Muriel, for example. She'd be pissed as all get out. …
|
20321310
|
sacred ground bleached with the salt of bitter tears
|
203155
|
“You’re not in Saigon anymore, Mai Bi'ch,” I said, craning to read her name badge. “They’ll need to be much better than that if you want to stay in this country.”
|
20311510
|
. . . quit being so rigid, open up to the pasta.
|
203100
|
author's note: the borgs in this story have been programmed to think of themselves as IT and in speech refer to selves as YOU* Though IT too had ball and socket joints, the Borg could not sit down to face ITs inquisitor. While IT felt the need to clean up the fallen…
|
203132
|
She was legally blind. He felt comfortable knowing she couldn’t see him very clearly.
|
203111
|
maybe if I bat my lashes just right, or look prim enough to fly, you just might touch me tonight, and the dream will pop and fizz and I will wake somewhere, your hands smoothing these lines of worry away.
|
203186
|
She sees Connick Jr. now has a microphone. He is singing “All of Me” as if he meant her to take all of him.
|
203155
|
Crawl to the dark places I love most, loud music and off key laughter, glimmering green and brown bottles eagerly holding the dim lights overhead inside themselves like ransomed stars.
|
203151
|
She watches too much VH1 for a five-year-old.
|
203175
|
He drifted for years: No forwarding. No phone.
|
203141
|
I’m squatting naked over the hand mirror, feet cold on the terrazzo floor, looking at my winking arsehole.
|
203193
|
We hit the road, headed west.
|
203061
|
Bearing the smell of paper on her fingertips. Ink in her hair.
|
203031
|
The shark’s voice was dark, warm and scratchy, like dying embers.
|
203074
|
She said he was missing the whole point: it was a decoration, not an actual pillow. You were supposed to place it somewhere artful.
|
203020
|
She’s right there in Thirsty’s. In her usual spot. Drinking her usual drink. Yuengling on tap. One after another.
And he’s there too. Behind the bar. Pouring drinks. One after another.
Sometimes they speak. But mostly she orders. He pours. And
|
202962
|
And now its done! Five months read! This book is batoning in my head. Its eleven o'clock AM and hot as hell, even the breeze, billowing nets through the sliding screen adds sweat, cuts me down to size. I will needs again to…
|
202902
|
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.
|
202952
|
You’re mad as a hatter she said. Eons, eras of epochal proportions go by before you call me. I said recalibrate your linear thinking, incubator baby. I whispered permutations of wonder, told her secrets only the sufis know. We ate French goat cheese lac
|
202922
|
The rain fell from the roof. It fell from my voice and and my eyes. Toshiro's Kukichiro stomped gutshot through the mud with his katana. Young and beautiful, Mifumi died there on the screen though he doesn't really die for fifty or more years, they think from something…
|
202860
|
“In the process, I’ve created this memory track. Yet had the sense that I had to make fixed memories move as illusion, that they move as illusion.”
|
20281010
|
He says he’ll have a Bud, too. The woman taps her pencil on her pad, looks at the kid and says, “When?”
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