1918 8 5
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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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191873
|
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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191876
|
Now, the Midwest was ashes. The oceans were covered with hydroponics plant growth.
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191865
|
weep or go stark mad your amanuensic fool will bury your words
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1918208
|
Phoebe-Lou Adams wrote this of them
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191700
|
As we sat at the cafe, Darrell told me that he had to make a mushroom delivery to one of his clients in Berkeley. I never knew whether it was legal or illegal business he was on, and he made a point of not telling me, because he said it was better I didn
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1917106
|
I turn up the music and slip into drone, rock it like a tunnel in canary. When that does not erase his face, I cup my breast with one hand and let my hair fall.
|
191700
|
The wind rushed by her and she heard the faint sound of barking. And then she knew why she was coming. And she ran.
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191721
|
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.
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191765
|
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.
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19171414
|
Life seemed okay…for the most part.
|
191710
|
He was the tall, whippy type. Dangerous.
|
1917109
|
The tiny green light flashing in the lawn of an apartment building one night that caught Roberta’s attention while we were walking home from Café Vita.
|
191754
|
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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191762
|
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.
|
1917107
|
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.
|
19162217
|
Sometimes cats had to die or dogs
|
1916108
|
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,…
|
1916107
|
She thrust her proboscis through seven layers of dermis and began to suck, filling her belly with his Welbutrin and Xanax infused blood.
|
19161212
|
you were very very small, you were everso small, you were like – the tiniest creature, hopping about on one leg
|
191633
|
Last night, the station played me a dream of sexual promiscuity that included -- but was not limited to -- imaginative acts involving....
|
19161817
|
The air is dry and smoky from a fire some miles away. The air is cool. A pair of vultures is soaring in a circle high above the rising land.
|
191685
|
"There is something in the air. It makes people sick, makes them want to die. They
cannot inhale too deeply for fear that it will turn them mad."
|
1916119
|
The taste of / what is denied us is always sweet
|
19162913
|
Cinnamon and smoke
infuse the days that shorten,
chill, accelerate.
|
19151412
|
He says, You think too much and he grins a grin that has all of the attic keys on a wrought iron ring, on a chain.
|
191521
|
My name is Lu-chen Wyatt, and I have watched this tomb for seven years with undying loyalty. Tomorrow I am going away, and I wish to set down the story of my leaving and to say goodbye to Set-Yi, whose burial place has been my home for so long.
|
1915117
|
when the surface of a photograph gets like this that it has gone blind
|
191565
|
They’re persistent, I’ll give them that. They keep coming. And coming and coming.
|
19141710
|
“What are you doing, Maestro?"
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