1885 10 7
|
She thrust her proboscis through seven layers of dermis and began to suck, filling her belly with his Welbutrin and Xanax infused blood.
|
188512
|
And I just want to say that my morning song is better than yours. I want you to hear it buzzing in me like an old radiator. I want you to do what you’ve done before. To press your ear against the skin and listen for the static.
|
188545
|
PORNOGRAPHY First He went across the floor to where she sat. One sleeve of her shirt dropped to show her shoulder, salted and brown. One hundred fish filled the wave. Now, he said. Now is now. Second The car wouldn't…
|
188585
|
"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."
|
1885205
|
He tells me that only a few things had happened in his life but some of them he had felt deeply.
|
188541
|
fated and cruel, a person I don't love
|
188500
|
“Have you heard about Lucius?” The lawyer turned to the carpenter. “They say he's gone mad. Just gone; the madness of the gods.” Sitting in the barbershop were the former two, one in his forties and the other of his fifties; a gray-haired…
|
18842217
|
Sometimes cats had to die or dogs
|
188411
|
Amid the swerve and pulse of hungry bodies Girma Dali picks his spot, a tissue-wide patch of net where's he going to strike. A green-jerseyed defender closes in on him his brute momentum unleashed like a kamikaze pilot swooping into enemy orbit, his lunging body makes…
|
188400
|
—with spinster goddesses in the middle of things / circling looms.
|
1884218
|
|
188410
|
and we got the apartment, which was on a street that backed up on an alley situated, as it turned out, right across the alley from the very first Hari Krishna house, where they would wake up at four every morning and begin their maddening chanting: Hari K
|
18841514
|
it was your hands—caked
with years-old clay & quaking
from too much solitude
|
18841210
|
Poor kid. She didn't mean to leave my business card on her kitchen counter next to the telephone. It was a mistake.
|
18841011
|
The man of a thousand faces was defunct.
|
188452
|
The courtroom smelled a lot like mold and it was hot as you could imagine. I sweated through my shirt and wondered if he wasn’t dying under his robe. He looked down at me from his bench and I just knew he was going to call me a commie and sentence me to l
|
188492
|
I won't fail at this like trying to fix a leaking sink without mud grease or washers tinier than Cheerios.
|
188383
|
love notes yellowed through the years
|
18831613
|
Suddenly a hand shot up on the other side of a hedge. “I’ll have one of those!” cried someone who remained invisible.
|
188300
|
Reining her small hands around the molded handle grips, her bottom bouncing athwart and wildly off the seat, Symphony wrenches her center of gravity inward, commandeering as much control from the road it would allow. With her breaks behaving as stubborn
|
188366
|
Little rambling soul,/kind guest, friend: leave me laughing,/pallid stiff, and bare.
|
18831310
|
the ugliness will not be denied
|
188395
|
I'm warming my stool at the far end of the bar as usual, nursing my fourth draft on a balmy Wednesday afternoon when I lock eyes with this lady who's bashing her head through the front door. You've heard the expression, “50-yard fox,” right? —Looks…
|
188365
|
I know she's a dog person, as she owns one.
“No, my asshole ex-boyfriend wanted one and then he left me with it.” she admits, then adds,
“I don't even like dogs. All dogs are needy.”
|
188399
|
They sat before the fire and played cribbage. He was a good player, but not as good as she was.
|
188246
|
The thing that really gets you about the house is the hurricane shutters. They're up already, even though it's the end of May, because Buck's uncle is back in Rhode Island for the summer and he's prepped the house on Key Largo like Armageddon is coming.
|
188298
|
The giant hurled threats and insults. He brandished a knife that was a foot long.
|
188282
|
|
18821812
|
There's a man sitting in my room holding a jar of my ashes. That's what he claims.
|
188282
|
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
|
