1834 14 12
|
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.
|
183421
|
A plague of dykes mattered not. This spider-girl had driven the world of thought from Borden’s mind.
|
18341511
|
Here they come, those witnesses.
|
18341310
|
the ugliness will not be denied
|
1834119
|
They both have an annoying habit. She talks to him while she's in another room, and he doesn't answer because he can't hear what she's saying.
|
18341514
|
it was your hands—caked
with years-old clay & quaking
from too much solitude
|
183410
|
Mid-Dawn//Mid-Dusk -- Wait for me.
|
183466
|
I may be the shadow that I am, but I only ever loved you.
|
18341011
|
The man of a thousand faces was defunct.
|
1834108
|
nothing can stop a group of genteel Southern women from a card game, and divine intervention makes one's participation in such an event quite worthwhile
|
1834189
|
feathered waves of tangerine peach
|
1834107
|
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.
|
183366
|
4. A pig's orgasm lasts 30 minutes.
> > (In my next life, I want to be a pig.)
|
183385
|
"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."
|
183397
|
They say
it was like an elephant
married to a dove.
Imagine, me,
a dove!
Ridículo!
|
18332312
|
Good buddy Jesus./
Life coach Jesus. Enthusiastic//
and optimistic Jesus, no cross/
or crown of thorns in sight.
|
183364
|
Belief is a hammer, like saying the mind is a piece of iron.
|
183322
|
This is a wife pregnant with spiders
|
18321414
|
Life seemed okay…for the most part.
|
183211
|
After lunch it's vocal coaching: shrieking, screaming, crying Oh-my-God!-Oh-my-God!-Oh-my-God!, panting and face fanning. Next it's ‘situational training', where we pretend to be audience members on real talk shows and practice everything we've learned th
|
183244
|
Why you keep a razor blade in your stocking?
|
183252
|
And the voodoo pins pinged as, folding and imploding, she was reduced to a petro-chemical puddle.
|
183254
|
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…
|
183211
|
We brought flowers for our dead lovers
|
18322218
|
The end will film itself/
in charred, eviscerated bodies
|
183133
|
To what better worlds remain.
|
18311817
|
Buddy was in a garage band. They were pretty good. “Soul Harbor“ they called themselves.
|
183122
|
No one is a Puritan under all that powder!
|
183182
|
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
|
183084
|
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…
|
