1887 10 3
|
“I’ll be damned,” he said. “I never knew where that was.”
|
1887126
|
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…
|
18872315
|
This is the story of the man whose wife lived in his neck. Every morning, he would turn to her and say, "Hello, Sweetheart. How was your night?" and she would answer, Brilliant! What else?
|
188782
|
Four in the morning. I was awake because I'm always awake. There were little fog-halos around the streetlights.
|
188741
|
™¶¢£ÆëáçÑøí¥®>©≈∞⅜∏√™¶¢£ÆëáçÑøí¥®>©≈∞⅜∏√™¶¢£ÆëáçÑøí¥®>©≈∞⅜∏√™¶¢£ÆëáçÑøí¥®>©≈∞⅜∏√™¶¢£ÆëáçÑøí¥®>©≈∞⅜∏√™¶¢£ÆëáçÑøí¥®>©≈∞⅜∏√™¶¢£ÆëáçÑøí¥®>©≈∞⅜∏√™¶¢£ÆëáçÑøí¥®>©≈∞⅜∏√™¶¢£ÆëáçÑøí¥®>©≈∞⅜∏√™¶¢£ÆëáçÑøí¥®>©≈∞⅜∏√™¶¢£ÆëáçÑøí¥®>©≈∞⅜∏√™¶¢£ÆëáçÑøí¥®>©≈∞⅜∏√™¶¢£ÆëáçÑøí¥®
|
188773
|
A bawdy secretary languishes behind the farmer, translating the squealing gray matter and scratching her rectangular nose obsessively.
|
188764
|
"...I wonder if it held magical powers..."
|
188710
|
The summer before cancer—the summer of the boy/friend, the summer before Max started high school, the summer when all the decisions about blowing apart their marriage were made—they drove to Martha's Vineyard. Astrid had insisted she wasn't going, rig
|
18872212
|
So, how did they meet? After years and years of starvation and gruesomeness and lack of human contact because there were no humans left, only walking corpses, a woman gently lifted the sixty-pound dead man's penis with a cool washrag and wiped him clean. The dead…
|
18871310
|
sacred ground bleached with the salt of bitter tears
|
1887127
|
I have no more use for the beautiful words you used to like so much for me tosend you alone. See my feathers donot so much hide me now as giveme away; I tend to feel farfrom home. Forgive me this. Theend jumped by me quicker than anorange flower cricket on its…
|
188694
|
|
188683
|
She thought maybe an angel had called out her name. She wasn't sure. She was waiting for her older sister to return with Jujy Fruits and bonbons. The theater, neither light nor dark, was to Cassie's ten-year-old mind, an appropriate-enough setting for a v
|
188641
|
"What's that smell?" Osama glares at me from the front seat of the Trans Am.
"What smell?" I say.
"You smell like a diaper. Are you wearing a diaper?" Osama and Peach both laugh at me.
"No... maybe, its my Baby Soft perfume. Is it too strong?"
|
188500
|
This is how we catch up. I write something down, and you read me quietly. In a year's time you will remind me, though I would have forgotten. I check to see if maybe you have put up a new song, every once in a while, but you don't sing as well as you used to.What has…
|
188566
|
ghosts are local plagues/of unexpended grief—tears/can't be bodiless.
|
18852014
|
In the bearded sun, I see a golden goat.
|
18852415
|
Put down your bazooka, Marianne.
|
188543
|
fifteen together with a little streetart slamtrick
|
188471
|
Homer relaxes in his tan, faded recliner, remote in hand, and watches death unfold on his television.
|
188410
|
|
188386
|
wild eyes open your iris sunrise
|
188384
|
It don't knock you down to the goddamned ground and push your face into the mat and dare you to get back up. Just so it can knock you down again. They don't have real dreams. Dreams that make them wake up in the middle of the night. Hurting. Wanting.
|
188300
|
Even the stinging warmth of the Grey Goose wasn’t fun without Lisa whispering into his ear, telling him stupid little confessions that he would recite to her in singsong the day after. And she would beat her small fists against his chest solemnly with a
|
1883117
|
Winter melts to ashes and now we walk where hillocks dip like pillows, where a warm pocket of air keeps the scent of spring beauties for itself. Sensitive vetch so easily shocked folds under a feather yet the earth trembles where trout lilies shove. Buds stall on lilacs…
|
1883188
|
I always step around his mess...
|
188310
|
Gloomy night slippery as snake and duck.
|
188301
|
Lydia slid into the pool and rubbed lotion on the exposed areas of skin. She lathered her flipper arms. She lathered her sun-worn face. And she lathered her chest, rubbing some between her chubby breasts.
|
188374
|
She said he was missing the whole point: it was a decoration, not an actual pillow. You were supposed to place it somewhere artful.
|
188375
|
He drifted for years: No forwarding. No phone.
|
