1883 12 8
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"Everything except food and sex."
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1883208
|
Phoebe-Lou Adams wrote this of them
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188311
|
We brought flowers for our dead lovers
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188362
|
I flip up my hoodie, pull the string tight across my lips until it cuts into them, pull tighter, saw back and forth until blood warms the hairs on my chin.
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188342
|
your leather jacket zip has left a row of teethmarks on her arm
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188298
|
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.
|
188297
|
They say
it was like an elephant
married to a dove.
Imagine, me,
a dove!
Ridículo!
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1882114
|
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.
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188200
|
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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18812016
|
The custard of eternity is scooped into
the quantum cone of knowledge and drips
out the bottom one lifetime at a time.
|
188184
|
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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188185
|
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
|
188110
|
Jasmine invited herself over and plopped herself on my futon. "Let's fuck," she said, bluntly. "I want to."
|
188120
|
They were starting to get winded. The boy, his father and his little brother were hiking up a hill, cutting a diagonal path through hay-colored grass towards an outcrop of craggy boulders below the hill's summit.
|
188175
|
“Ah Willie! Ah my boy! You poor sweet faced youth. Gone now! Our memories, Willie, our memories will haunt us forever with your laughter, your joy, your enduring excuses, your misspellings & badly slanted penmanship. Oh Willie. My boy. Gone & gone f
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1880105
|
there she was, this beautiful duck with her 4 beautiful babies, under my bush.
|
188000
|
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.
|
188021
|
A plague of dykes mattered not. This spider-girl had driven the world of thought from Borden’s mind.
|
18801712
|
It could probably be shown by facts and figures that there is no distinctly native American criminal class except Congress.
|
188000
|
He picked her out of the crowd at Club Mai, easy when you knew what to look for: long, dark hair, pretty Latina face, store-bought tits. This one wore a tight dress that showed off her legs, sculpted to perfection by God and a pair of four-inch stilettos.
|
188020
|
A universe, all of it, was encased in glass.
|
18801212
|
|
188021
|
She persisted. “How long have we been here?”
A note of anger crept into his voice. “How long? How long? Why …, why ….” He swallowed hard, realized he had forgotten.
|
188022
|
No one is a Puritan under all that powder!
|
188072
|
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.
|
188054
|
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…
|
18801411
|
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18791715
|
Before the days of “customer experience,” Eddie figured out whatever information he could about his clients. He asked them for business cards, recorded their phone numbers from the reservation book, snapped photos of them in his mind…
|
187942
|
Two people are talking. They are both wearing hats.
|
187910
|
“What I really want to know is, why is a straight guy called Caspar opening a lesbian leather bar in Berlin anyway?” Shona asked. “Schöneberg must really be going to the dogs.”
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