1881 11 6
|
He has stubby, rough little fingers. Good.
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188173
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The package arrived, delivered to her work as was her preference. She took it to the ladies room and sat on the lounge, carefully opening the box, removing the new black patent leather FMQs, pulling out the tissue paper stuffed into the toes and placing her well-worn…
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188110
|
Jasmine invited herself over and plopped herself on my futon. "Let's fuck," she said, bluntly. "I want to."
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1880148
|
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188091
|
I've come to the Playboy Mansion on a mission of mercy. Hugh Hefner, my good buddy, has just lost two girlfriends in a single day!
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188076
|
2. humility You know what silly does? Silly guarantees that you will enjoy the moment as the moment for the moment. Clowns make fun of silly. Isn't that ironic? They are in essence the opposite of their own image. That's why so many people see them as evil--because you…
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188011
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Eyes so much deeper, that the internal flow could not hope to equal the intensity fired beyond iris, pupil and sclera. So blue, that life could not exist in the fragile shape of his heart, blue veins outlining an ever enlargening circumference…
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1880127
|
The end is rehearsed over and over;/
in a world without heaven all is farewell.
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1880128
|
No fuckin' way, Maude. Excuse me, but you know I can't stand that bag of wind. No way.
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188000
|
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.
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188000
|
Two women grab a table near a window in a coffee shop. Outside, the sky is the color of dulled aluminum. It is early spring and pollen assaults the air with a tint of sulfur.
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187900
|
The girl who was me stands in a sandbox with upraised arms, honey hair tied with olive yarn in two ponytails. She says nothing, but wants me to pick her up.
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18791712
|
It could probably be shown by facts and figures that there is no distinctly native American criminal class except Congress.
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18791915
|
“What does the future hold?”
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187985
|
They have a saying in Russia: Live in Voronezh, work in Samara, die in Tyumen. In honour of Saint Rose, born on the banks of the Voronezh, fed the hungry and the poor of Samara, torn apart by wolves in Tyumen on the exact date that she had herself predict
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187966
|
The book mind, just like its namesake the book, is capable of movement only after its assembly: otherwise, it boasts no moving parts.
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187842
|
He returned to America on the Fourth of July. Twisting in his cramped window seat miles above the Atlantic, he buckled up before the descent. “You can handle this,” he muttered. Hungover, still reeling from the dreamy head-turning experience of…
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18781714
|
Tan my hide. Feed me to rabid / macaques.
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18782012
|
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18781819
|
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187872
|
It’s not just the mailman. It’s the logo on the mailbox down the street. It’s the uniform. It’s any man or woman in the whole unsettling profession.
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187833
|
Last night, the station played me a dream of sexual promiscuity that included -- but was not limited to -- imaginative acts involving....
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187811
|
We brought flowers for our dead lovers
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1878109
|
poets can kill, or at least they once could:/
perhaps poems tamed us, if they are any good.
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187784
|
Cleaning the dust bunnies from under our lives, Zin says she wants to move to the country, maybe someplace as big as Texas. She claims that lately she's having trouble breathing between bricks or talking to hot chestnut vendors with rubber faces. It's giving her nightmares…
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187784
|
Fred's ruined face stared back at him from a fractured, mold-spotted mirror. The remains of breakfast pooled around his feet and a pair of lace panties clung to his shoe, glued there by God knew what. Bits of flesh were stuck between his yellow teeth, alo
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18771315
|
Somewhere a banjo, somewhere a hound.
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1877114
|
Billy had crystal blue eyes A small mouth And long hair to cover up his Hearing aids. He told me once, with his hands How he liked to submerge His head in water and yell So loud he could feel it. "I can hear myself that way," he…
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18771212
|
Momma called them Vaughens, "a outfit," and said, "they shoulda throwed the book at that Darla Jean."
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187754
|
It was Brad, for short; or so he would say. But really his name was Bradford, and he was a writer. He had almost always lived in New York. He was only half-white. His mother had run away with a black man in the sixties. Her father had told her to never come back to…
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