1716 10 2
|
Time
Holds
Ultimately
Nothing
Dear
Except
Reunion
|
1716135
|
The Fuddy-Duddy Writer does not do wit.
|
1716105
|
"She had been warned." (this started as a fun alien story and then took a human turn.)
|
171692
|
‘Look, look, Quark. Look here. Warthearm. A shiny warthearm.’ Maz was on his elbows and knees, his fat ass sticking out in their air like two cannon-balls ready to be shot off. He was peering at a long, shapeless earthworm, its skin translucent and i
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17161211
|
Call him a hobo or homeless or bum or junkie.
|
171500
|
As children we invent games and we're really creative. We concoct ridiculous rules and enjoy making adaptations to them. And everything makes sense. Then you grow up, lose creativity. You don't invent games anymore. Recess is replaced with a second…
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1715114
|
Billy had crystal blue eyes A small mouth And long hair to cover up his Hearing aids. He told me once, with his hands How he liked to submerge His head in water and yell So loud he could feel it. "I can hear myself that way," he…
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171544
|
Why you keep a razor blade in your stocking?
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171545
|
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…
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1715116
|
She thinks she trusts this man; she wants to trust him. His face reminds her of a man who once took care of her on an airplane when she was a kid traveling by herself.
|
171597
|
"Think of every sexual partner you've ever had. I'm nothing like them. Unless you've ever slept with a bulimic German cellist called Elsa."
|
171542
|
when the sun goes down alone
vice is forgotten in the night wind
your lover's voice
on the phone
held fast in the balance
of gravity and momentum
overcoming inanimate objects
and the unknown
|
1715208
|
Phoebe-Lou Adams wrote this of them
|
171540
|
She collects slowly
The pieces
Each one
Heavy with grief
Precious and
Also bitter
|
17142010
|
Their bodies, ripe uncovered flesh, had begun to erode, the edges of their limbs and cores bitten, taken by the wind in small pieces, flaking and tearing, some parts sliding, falling away.
|
171423
|
Ride me, I say, and you never hear. No matter how I shine my padding, it's never what draws you to me. I only get to touch you when you feel guilty, and most of the time, it's only through shorts and graduated compression socks. What does my desire matter? It all comes out…
|
171481
|
She had a strange name which I am ashamed/
To have forgotten, seven times, maybe nine,/
Her lips transgressors, wet with sourapple ...
|
171488
|
So she set about eliminating the problem, all the time recalling some newsmagazine program she’d seen as a child: a discussion of hantavirus, nasty and deadly and spread by mice.
|
171400
|
He came to us with wandering tales of wild things
Savage, biting, slashing, tearing
A violent voice boomed becoming of beasts
|
17141812
|
She had loved sleeping in Todd’s arms at night, hearing the soft tinkle of crystal above her when cool drafts moved through the house, his hand wandering over the swell of her belly.
|
17141715
|
He had coal black hair the day he died. He claimed to be part French, no doubt the offspring of a Swedish girl and a French soldier, although Ole did not mention this.
|
171465
|
They’re persistent, I’ll give them that. They keep coming. And coming and coming.
|
1714104
|
He got up to the pulpit and said that he thought he might have made a mistake. I will never forget the desperate look on his face. He recalled being at his Ivy League school and wondering just what he was interested in upon his graduation and what would b
|
171440
|
I don’t know what to make of this new territory we have stumbled into neither by accident, it seems, or design. Is there a map to be found?
|
1714109
|
poets can kill, or at least they once could:/
perhaps poems tamed us, if they are any good.
|
171384
|
Fred's ruined face stared back at him from a fractured, mold-spotted mirror. The remains of breakfast pooled around his feet and a pair of lace panties clung to his shoe, glued there by God knew what. Bits of flesh were stuck between his yellow teeth, alo
|
171342
|
He returned to America on the Fourth of July. Twisting in his cramped window seat miles above the Atlantic, he buckled up before the descent. “You can handle this,” he muttered. Hungover, still reeling from the dreamy head-turning experience of…
|
17131010
|
If he doesn't bite, I'm out of here.
|
171365
|
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.”
|
1713118
|
The wind has no voice
and yet we listen,
perhaps imagining the ramblings
of a mad man
|
