1919 6 4
|
"When we say something is good, beautiful, pious, or brave, what idea or image do we hold in our mind?"
|
191900
|
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
|
191921
|
The Bridge Barstow had not wanted to listen to Griff. Griff was not making the right decisions, or he thought Griff was not making the right decisions. Thought he was walking a…
|
1919124
|
It rises rigid and plumb from its heavy base, the severity of line yielding to grace only at the throat where it crests into a subtly constrictive pinch.
|
191997
|
leaves of a season/float into a brook among/bubbles fit to burst.
|
1918137
|
Here’s how you do it. First you get a ladder, a long one.
|
191851
|
Funny, you can drink wine and eat stale crackers, but you cannot suck a simple lollipop? Where does it say that in the bible? Nowhere, that’s where.
|
1918129
|
What happened later that evening is unclear. When Mickey got back to his quarters, he was in good spirits. Buoyant even.
|
191883
|
I walked on hot coals. She got ahead of me. (228 words)
|
191876
|
The World's Worst Mime stood there next to the iron carousel, portraying something, and the crowd understood none of it, except that whatever thing he was trying to portray was not being portrayed well at all.
|
19181310
|
He'd tend the door himself in high lace up boots, orange rhinestone hot pants, a tight black t-shirt, and black boa with orange swirl.
|
191892
|
‘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
|
191853
|
He never bothered converting the tip money he pocketed at the Imperial Street 24 hour car wash as his world was replete with 25 cent transactions, making quarters the perfect coin for his realm.
|
191797
|
Dark, green grass covered the pasture like millions of tiny fingers swaying in the heat.
|
191783
|
I was making good bread as a New York studio musician and jingle writer, anonymous back-room jobs.
|
191786
|
you hear the knell of kindness
long before its cathedral voices -- a recessional --
barters better times.
|
19171910
|
A constellation appears in the shape of Van Gogh’s missing ear.
|
191711
|
The tiles begin inching toward him as soon as he moves. You've seen filings on glass. He's the magnet on the underside.
|
1917173
|
My swinging purse sent saucers tinkling to the tile and the copper-headed waitress flew over, swooping on the shatter, clutching clean forks like a handful of flowers.
|
19171812
|
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.
|
1917115
|
What did they even invent
clothing for? I asked.
|
191782
|
the dogneck gave no support
|
1917105
|
Half way through our cigarettes she told me her name was Charlotte.
|
19171911
|
Emma pushes through the door of the corner market, aiming briskly for her car, keys in one hand, grocery bag in the other, shoulder bag slung. Best not to make eye contact with the loitering boozers and bikers from the bar next door. Double take. Can't…
|
1916105
|
It’s a song you knew once, begin to remember now: You’ve had this dream before.
|
191696
|
The thunder rolled like an old Bob Dylan tour...
|
191662
|
She was in love with a boy whose eyes were so brown that she sat stopped in the restaurant at the anniversary dinner with the spoon in her slow chocolate fondant. Out of the corner of her eye, around the back of her head, under the table knees knocking
|
191650
|
About 10 years ago is when it started. I was 14, sitting at Pop's knee, listening to his stories, and Mom came in crying. She could hardly get words out.
I think that day was the last time I felt the sun.
|
1916127
|
wrenched its lower back trying so hard to lift too many stacked November clouds off the newly shaved prickly heads of the slowly freezing trees,like ring weights,and had to spend the last of its hours setting in a small square box in…
|
191600
|
|
