1968 12 11
|
Maybe, after years of writing poems like letters, he began to notice that no one ever wrote him back.
|
1968169
|
She was as distant as Mao, someone I never met, but whom everyone carried in their eyes,
|
196812
|
The zombie apocalypse was long foretold as a rather exciting bit of bother involving shotguns and chainsaws, but the reality of it is rather depressingly boring.
|
196842
|
All right, so the frog I risked my lips on (not to mention the contents of my stomach) . . . .
|
196888
|
It took all four of his kids to convince my father to pull the plug. Mom's car crash had left her a vegetable, but of course he hung on. Once they withdrew life support, she was gone in ten minutes. The first thing our father said was that he was hungry. He felt…
|
196822
|
He pulls on his wispy goatee and shifts his weight a few times from one foot to the other. That doesn’t help. It rarely does, to be honest.
|
196761
|
Bearing the smell of paper on her fingertips. Ink in her hair.
|
196722
|
Her face had that strange preserved quality Maybelle saw in many aging Boomer women — like an old toy never removed from its packaging.
|
196785
|
We were old. Wind came in with small threats and played games with drapes. A print of orchids and some other green affair that looked to me like kiwis. Sadie was arranging some items on a desk and I noticed there was a cricket on the window. I was thinking…
|
196751
|
She watches too much VH1 for a five-year-old.
|
196741
|
Leo, leo, leo, leo, the word itself imprinted on my brain, carved with a pearl handled blade into my cerebral cortex, into the medulla, burrowed deep into my dreams, I miss your kissing.
|
196700
|
The words of prophets only serve to demonstrate that ‘unreliable narrative’ can often result in poor literature; unfortunately, poor literature can attract a very large following.
|
196773
|
Roanne banged the chiva, turned tricks, and ran out of road.
|
196610
|
The rustling of the dry leaves when he moved even slightly sounded like thunder to him, and he was sure if any of the other kids from the neighborhood got too close, it was the noise that would end up giving him away.
|
196621
|
The Bike Messenger on Lexington Avenue
Comes to rest
taking a moment
in the falling rain
slowly massaging the
veins at the top
of his bald head
Cracking his neck
while the yellow cabs start
honking behind him
Unwilling to mov
|
19661510
|
. . . quit being so rigid, open up to the pasta.
|
1966107
|
god bless my shapeless head. we are good at becoming older. i feel incredibly negative all the time.
|
196682
|
The depth of her love for Briana could only be heard on the 80’s ballads station fumbling from the stereo in Madi’s car, awkward, just like her smile.
|
196622
|
Marion had decided to stop whenever she came upon Amarillo. It was close to two a.m. when she pulled into the motel parking lot. Momma, read the nametag on the woman at reception. Her face was illuminated by a TV. Her hair curlers were illuminated by the lone desk lamp…
|
196602
|
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.
|
196642
|
The dogs shit on the roof and then, every two weeks or so, the man in Apartment 311 climbs out the window with a plastic shovel and scoops the shit into a white plastic bag, which soon grows heavy with dung, dangling from his black-gloved wrist.
|
196627
|
Regina Dawn "Gina" Edwards, 49, passed away June 2, 2006.
R.I.P. "Ridge Woman"
|
19654024
|
What used to be a scene has broken into fragments and blips of her on a screen I can’t control or manipulate.
|
1965149
|
By the thousands youngsters swarmed into the streets shuffling aimlessly, many mumbling to themselves, heads bowed as their eyes stared fixedly at the plastic devices in their hands.
|
19652916
|
"...they ran shirtless like pagans under southern stars."
|
196577
|
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
|
19651110
|
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…
|
196554
|
You know how it is, one day a good friend sends you this long note telling you how-the-hell they are or aren't getting along in the frigging world
|
19652214
|
The night we crossed the Madres my father stuffed his Stetson full of cash.
|
19652415
|
Put down your bazooka, Marianne.
|
