1777 10 4
|
Again, that was not the man I once knew. If they were taking Las Vegas odds; I should be the one dealing with this first.
Why was it him and not me?
|
177773
|
Why don't we do it in a yellow submarine?
|
177700
|
She turned to the window, staring into the dark. A smile crept to her lips and she laughed softly. “No, we can’t. I’m Mexican and we speak Spanish.” The smile vanished and she moved to leave. “No sé qué decir… sólo puedo llorar. Nada
|
17771813
|
The young man is back again, solo,
|
17772014
|
In the bearded sun, I see a golden goat.
|
1777114
|
A wall of icons can be beautiful if you don’t look closely at the hands. The hands tell stories of too short lives and unrequited love.
|
177620
|
Before Plasma screen TV Futon Underwear (brief style) piled on kitchen chair Unopened mail from funeral parlour Water in the sink coloured orange with grease Desktop computer (flying toasters screen saver) Cigarette butts floating…
|
177622
|
Her face had that strange preserved quality Maybelle saw in many aging Boomer women — like an old toy never removed from its packaging.
|
1776116
|
He has stubby, rough little fingers. Good.
|
1776115
|
A nun once told me to watch my tongue. This is not an easy thing to do.
|
177600
|
He heard her crying out behind the curtain that had been drawn around the bed. Each cry was more strained than the last. She complained about the burning, called the nurses "putane" and threatened to rip out the device they'd inserted into her. He sat t
|
177611
|
And I was going into the visions you get before you go to sleep. And I heard her moan. It was so beautiful. I moaned back. And she moaned again. And I did too. We pretended I guess that we didn’t hear each other. That we were moaning in our sleep.
|
177577
|
The mountains of humility went silent, / the rain of regency dried its eyes
|
17751712
|
It could probably be shown by facts and figures that there is no distinctly native American criminal class except Congress.
|
177550
|
How many of them, I'm wondering, are just going through the motions until the power goes out and never comes back on again? They've got to know the Americans will never let the city fall to the færies.
|
177531
|
The shark’s voice was dark, warm and scratchy, like dying embers.
|
177585
|
Mars' circled state is slain, no bird of Jove That roosts protected in its green youth's flush; Its storms no more bring moistness from above, From blue beads cradled in one thunder's flash. The god of War was husband once to Love: Her arms were …
|
177532
|
So I'm digging, clawing the black earth, disappearing in its ore and shadow.
|
1774124
|
all / the secret letters/ ever dreamed up
|
17741511
|
Here they come, those witnesses.
|
177456
|
The heart is a toothed hole that cannot be filled.
|
177400
|
My name is Sydnée Figge, and this is the beginning of my story.
I suppose it should be said that even though people call me Syd, I am not a man. People who can actually see me know that right away, and I’m not ashamed of that even though I’m a bit olde
|
177398
|
In the beginning the revolution was all motion and energy. When the President for Life resigned motion and energy disappeared with the sounds of clapping hands.
|
177342
|
Two people are talking. They are both wearing hats.
|
177398
|
“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 …
|
177384
|
A girl waiting at the door, heart in a Ziploc. An elderly woman stopping at the bank. A bear in a screaming contest with a troop of girl scouts.
|
177382
|
My piano tutor, a walnut-faced shrew, rapped my knuckles with her small plastic baton to smack them back into the proper tempo, an adagio I’d mastered weeks before. One hour until the audition and damn if this woman didn’t break the skin of two of my fing
|
177300
|
I can barely feel the blade as it first goes in. I'm pleasantly surprised. But as she drags the knife across my skin the pain increases becoming more and more painful rising to a point of unbearable agony the further she cuts.
|
177221
|
He’d been wishing for months that he’d bought a retro clothing store. He would have called it HARRY’S HOARY HOSERRY. He would have met a better class of women.
|
177230
|
He was dead when he tried to wake up.
“Wake up,” he yelled silently to himself, although it didn’t sound silent to his voice.
“Brr, brr, brr,” shouted his alarm clock as it glared two red fives, a colon and a seven
|
