1836 39 15
|
If I had been a cat you probably would have kept me forever, even with an incurable disease. I think about that every time I clean the litter pan, especially late at night.
|
183677
|
rump-a-rump, bat-a-tat, barumpabumbum
|
183621
|
"How could anyone say that I was wrong, that I was crazy?" These thoughts scraped across her mind and tore open the reasons she had knitted herself into over the years.
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1836117
|
My wife and I are cat people. Indeed, that's how we met. We met at a wake.
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1835129
|
The bus is late; the papers disappear.
The china breaks, and the suit does not fit.
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18351710
|
Ancestry.com The Liverpool census in 1851 lists him:Thirteen years old, Irish. Occupation: beggar. Only that. I will do more for him.I will see him in torn jacket and too-short pants singing all day of the fields, the cliffs,…
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183587
|
The blues were born on the ghost train that rolled through the Delta and gave Memphis breath back in 1902. It's low moaning sound brought young black men running, dogs hot in pursuit, toward glory that danced in a moonlight…
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183584
|
He wrote, wrote, wrote with the sharp eye of an eagle...
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183543
|
The mouth on my breasts is hungry, searching, needing...
|
183535
|
My mother and I are close We talk like friends I tell her about people I'm dating She gets excited for me And she asks how it's going When I tell her I think I'm gay She says nothing She does not ask about the woman I am seeing She does not ask how I am doing …
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183520
|
Nothing more savory than gossip relayed in confidential tones.
|
183500
|
7
We sat in Darrell's truck in the deserted silent world of the down-trodden industrial area of West Berkeley, where no one in his right mind went at five in the morning. "Put the gun away, Darrell," I said. "I mean it."
"I can't help but keep
|
183522
|
In principle, Sergeant Brock Lumley resisted superstition, but if you were to stop him on any given day he was patrolling Baghdad streets with his rifle squad and ask him to open the front left ammo pouch on his flak vest, he’d get this look on his face..
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183540
|
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?
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1835217
|
55 words, slightly naughty
|
183442
|
The little Hannibal Lectors had run like bandits away from the flames and had latched on to their equipment and gear. They screamed as the bugs crawled all over them. When they got back to the station they had to quarantine all their stuff so the bugs w
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1834115
|
A compliment is candy to the heartbroken, oxygen to a suffocating flame. The best hunter picks his prey carefully, selecting his line like an archer pulling an arrow from a quiver, quickly and efficiently, then flick! the line cuts through the air and…
|
183432
|
Knocked off around noon, drank some retsina, checked Olympics results. Can’t find Medea’s motivation. Why would she kill her kids?
|
183441
|
Steam rolls out of the bathroom as Mr. Larson opens the door with a white towel around his waist. Pepper strolls up to him and purrs as she rubs her long, gray tail against his tanned legs."Hey, girl.” He runs his coarse, scarred fingers through the cat's soft coat.…
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18342212
|
I liked the taste in my mouth, mint and cigarettes and fresh and filthy.
|
183489
|
I worry about my garden. I know there are larger concerns lurking in the stale shadows than my limp little flowers, things more pressing to the meeting of minds than thick lush green leaves might bring, but this is my own greenish way of …
|
183451
|
Two fine-young-things scan the menu board of In-N-Out Burger off Interstate 101. Dressed like twins -- hoop earrings, tank-tops and mini-skirts, ballet pumps — you could hardly tell them apart, except for their Cleopatra and Marilyn Manson hairstyles. As they…
|
18342119
|
I once read a book of warnings.
|
18331613
|
Suddenly a hand shot up on the other side of a hedge. “I’ll have one of those!” cried someone who remained invisible.
|
183332
|
The smell of candy and burn... /A patriotic prose poem for the fourth of July.
|
18331713
|
and the mass exceeds the buoyancy/
and gravity pulls you back,
|
183344
|
She has a mercenary way of doing business and she's pretty shrewd. I make her stand outside to smoke her cigarette. I stay inside watching her stance as she violently tugs at the barrel, tearing every ounce of smoke out of it, then stamping it out as I wo
|
183364
|
Raymond Carver used to write poetry in his car. /
Tonight, I tried it too. /
I have a car like Raymond Carver /
but cannot write poetry like Raymond Carver. /
The car isn’t enough.
|
1832106
|
Now that I no longer sleep to see you,
propelled by this motion that is not magic
|
1832122
|
i miss you/
at times unbearably/
a dull ache that won’t quit
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