1667 4 3
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There is nothing so obscure it is not enhanced by talking, nothing so dull it cannot be coaxed into brilliance, nothing so deep it cannot be dug from an abyss and brought to the surface in paroxysms of red.
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1667122
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i miss you/
at times unbearably/
a dull ache that won’t quit
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166700
|
She pulls out of love, while you sit upon the rumble seat, a granted is taken for every crack of the whip. She pulls out of fear. She pulls.
|
1667136
|
Men aren't good at these kinds of things, my mother tells me. She states it as if it is a scientific fact.
|
166786
|
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166730
|
I was a Cub Scout, and the face of God was a joke that was told to my little pack. The joke went as thus:
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166744
|
I am the Poet Laureate of my bedroom
I am the Poet Laureate of 6065 Chabot Road, Jokeland
I am the Poet Laureate of the Loser Café
I have wind in my shoes if not my hair
I am the Poet Laureate of Karmic Impulses
Of tabloids and gossip
I am
|
166798
|
I spot another fat lady in another part of the store, and I slap her butt, too. She tells me I'm a bad boy.
|
166773
|
Note to self: look up Bobby Sands.
|
16671412
|
Behind them all, in the background, a tray of vodka tonics waits on a glass table, the limes losing color as they drown.
|
16672913
|
Cinnamon and smoke
infuse the days that shorten,
chill, accelerate.
|
166700
|
Once upon a time, not so long ago in Los Angeles, Jack and Jill Woodman’s father remarried.
|
166721
|
It will only be minutes before I can slip out of this shelter, but time has suspended itself like a web over the sky. I look up and see a break in the clouds moving north from the furthest tip of Lake Erie. Rain turns to drizzle, other guests arrive toget
|
1666164
|
He ran his forefinger round the rim of the lid then sucked at his fingertip. The texture's like chalk, he thought, it tastes of earth. He hadn't anticipated this — but dipped his finger in again and swallowed. It was like scraping his tongue against a blackboard on…
|
166676
|
I'm a librarian. A reader. I identify as a four-eyed person. I've always worn glasses. I got my first pair in the second grade. It was a miracle! The blurry world I'd inhabited all my life suddenly came into focus. I could see the blackboard! I could read street signs! I…
|
166675
|
I was Orson Welles skulking in the shadows and you Alida Valli;
our time measured like footsteps advancing on Gethsemane.
|
1666139
|
|
166697
|
we wipe the blood of our progress
from our hands.
|
1666108
|
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
|
16662914
|
You say boxer briefs, I say pillbox hats
|
166683
|
45s I’ve kept wrapped in newspaper in the attic. These are all mine. Some doubling up in sleeves. Some pushing tears in the seams.
|
16661813
|
My uncle looks into the bleached eye of his cat and asks
"What happened to my ear?"
The meerkat’s eye replies:
"You had cancer. Remember?
They had to cut off your ear to save you."
|
1666119
|
What if I never feel like a real artist? What does it even mean to be a "real" artist? What if nobody ever cares about what I make?
|
166642
|
They leaned against the hood of his pickup, which sat heavy on its wheels, the back of it filled with the things that he’d held out of the yard sale three days earlier.
“When’re you leaving?” she asked.
“Early. Get on down the road. Shut ’er down ea
|
166576
|
Alexander Ivanovich stuck out his leg and tripped Daniil Ivanovich Yuvachev. Daniil Ivanovich Yuvachev stood up, took two steps forward, stuck out his leg and tripped Alexander Ivanovich.
|
166587
|
When the full moon changes trajectory and comes close it pushes you to different gravitational fields
|
166521
|
"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.
|
166574
|
Sagittarius (Nov.22 – Dec. 21)
Listen to the voices
inside your head.
They speak to you
for a reason.
Now is not the time for debate.
|
166511
|
I. The girl within the sleeping woman dreams her dream of ending. To her comes the cowgirl with no kids: she's riding high atop her turquoise horse, steady by its braided mane. Silver pistols holstered. The girl in the woman in the dream she's dreaming…
|
16651915
|
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