1908 2 1
|
so one time the Holy Ghost come down to Stumptown
|
190872
|
leaning over the banister, her Christmas waist making the wood swoon and creak, a warning sign if there ever was one...
|
190810
|
It was stubborn early winter, when everyone was cold but went outside anyways, rubbing red fingers and shuffling feet.
|
190865
|
weep or go stark mad your amanuensic fool will bury your words
|
190842
|
“Really? And you write…?” asked her breasts in the black dress, making excellent eye contact. He smiled at them.
|
190832
|
He kept the lawn mowed at the perfect height. He mowed it twice a week to one inch. Some weeks he mowed it a third time for good measure.
|
190830
|
If I was a bum
I’d risk everything
for a drink or a smoke
I would beg and curse and steal
if I was a bum
If I was a bum
I would cuss out the Pope
I would not vote for anyone
because I would know truly
they’d be telling gross lies
|
190721
|
A plague of dykes mattered not. This spider-girl had driven the world of thought from Borden’s mind.
|
190733
|
To what better worlds remain.
|
190700
|
The first time they were separated, he rediscovered music and writing.
|
19071310
|
I will not tell you that your anger is wrong, child.
|
1906105
|
there she was, this beautiful duck with her 4 beautiful babies, under my bush.
|
1906168
|
dos equis ambar
sits cool and dark
by my side
|
190685
|
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
|
190676
|
Now, the Midwest was ashes. The oceans were covered with hydroponics plant growth.
|
190654
|
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…
|
190653
|
It's a pretty strange feeling when you think you're about to bite into some ice cream and instead it's gazpacho.
|
190635
|
The vampire donated floodlights so the children could play ballgames at night. The lights came on but the dugouts remained vacant. The vampire sat alone in the bleachers. “Sometimes I am less than the sum of my parts,” he said to the sum of his parts.
|
190600
|
Lighter-than-air flight was back. The skies of the coast were alight with colorful balloons, dirigibles, and zeppelins tethered to their docking towers along the beach, the huge aircraft bobbing in the breeze up and down the coast for miles,…
|
1905108
|
Time to pull in the shining teeth, but it makes me so sad, you know I'd rather be holding hands. The others have told me, don't hold back, hit them with every white knuckle, and let them bleed out, I'd rather be kissing your face. It hurts,…
|
19051612
|
So I went to see the wrinkled
and rumpled poet, who insisted
on reading from memory, stumbling
through his sheaf of poems.
|
190584
|
He wrote, wrote, wrote with the sharp eye of an eagle...
|
190521
|
She stepped into a pair of high heeled slippers and began to dance. She was Salome, a witch, dancing like the most beautiful, the most skilled whores of Paris.
|
190565
|
He checks the bedrooms first,
then the hallway,
followed by the living room
and the bathrooms.
When he can't find you he takes to calling out,
daddy,
I'm sure the neighbors hear.
|
19051410
|
are my only real friends. They don't seem to mind my shuffling down the dirty sidewalks without acknowledging their mere scraggly presences like friendly tombstones. They are growing their hair out again. I've noticed that much. We've got a…
|
1905119
|
The taste of / what is denied us is always sweet
|
190562
|
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.
|
1905107
|
Newhouse returned his gaze to his wet palm, which he lifted to his nose with suspicion, sniffed again and again, then struggled to move out from under the growing stream.
|
1905114
|
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.
|
190464
|
There were days in my youth when, through no fault of their own, my parents could not drive me the seven mile trip to my elementary school. When I got older they bought me a bike and that proved duly adequate as conveyance. But when I was six years in age
|
