1712 5 2
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The young girl has given up, and lies sprawled out
upon the yellow cover on the bed, with her blue sarong
wrapped loosely around her body. One arm lay
back up above her head, where it was thrown
during the exertion of birth. Her yellow halo
surr
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171255
|
I don't see why you didn’t get a dozen while you were at it.
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171245
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But the world is smaller when I see it /
from the crook of your neck.
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171243
|
take back all the falderal
and friggin' fiddle dee dee
take back the mad murmuring
of ten minutes ago
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171222
|
The blue whale in the bathtub weighed one hundred tons and wore a grin like the Cheshire cat on steroids. Her smile stretched from wall to wall. Her blowhole scraped the ceiling. Sam never learned how she crammed her tail down into the drainpipe,…
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1712139
|
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171241
|
My motivation as a filmmaker for traveling to Japan was economic and opportunistic. American military occupation had accelerated westernization and, when Japan regained its sovereignty in 1952, their economy was rapidly expanding. Led by manufacturing and export of items…
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171220
|
Crazy. I really hate when people use that word.
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1712159
|
At the graveyard, the leaves had been raked into loose array....
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171221
|
"Look, Ted, I'm on a timer. It's really hell here, you can't imagine. And I have a chance to get paroled early, if you do me a solid."
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171297
|
we wipe the blood of our progress
from our hands.
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171211
|
Here is “Adrien Brody” through a Freudian lens: Calloway wanted to fuck her father. She flew to New York City to fuck a version of her father who has a name similar to an actor with an interesting nose and a lot of talent. Neither Calloway nor the actor n
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171110
|
I'm sitting in a burned out skeletal frame of an old Cadillac on the side of Route 66 just outside of Kansas. Back home in New York State my sister is explaining to my mother that Jack Kerouac convinced me to run away even though he's been dead for years. They're…
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17111612
|
So I went to see the wrinkled
and rumpled poet, who insisted
on reading from memory, stumbling
through his sheaf of poems.
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171186
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you hear the knell of kindness
long before its cathedral voices -- a recessional --
barters better times.
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17112214
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I thought each day died inside the clock.
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17111211
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You make your art when you can and Perhaps vice versa. You really Don't know what that means? Consult your tarot. You make your Art and visualize your mind As a large pool of water. You Make your art and if you're lucky They may…
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171194
|
A jollier zombie you shall never find. You must trust me on this!
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171133
|
“Turn the fucking thing off!” I yelled above the noise. “It’s fucking New Year’s morning!”
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171100
|
Vito stood before the mirror combing his dark, freshly-cut hair. He trimmed his thick mustache, then buttoned his black vest. He liked its tight fit against his muscular torso. He had difficulty fastening the top button of his white shirt, the collar tigh
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171144
|
My head was swimming with nicotine, the coldness of the first snow, and unfinished love thoughts.
|
171094
|
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171043
|
#spotify / Elevators / Sky Burial Monologue
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17101410
|
are my only real friends. They don't seem to mind my shuffling down the dirty sidewalks without acknowledging their mere scraggly presences like friendly tombstones. They are growing their hair out again. I've noticed that much. We've got a…
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171032
|
He kept the lawn mowed at the perfect height. He mowed it twice a week to one inch. Some weeks he mowed it a third time for good measure.
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17101715
|
I loved to visit my grandparents when I was a kid.
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171011
|
I know it was the ceremonial magician who talked you into it. I know it was supposedly to be what the Enochean Angels needed to come into the vortex and into the world, make it all balanced on all four sides, four elements, so that when the world ended, t
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170922
|
My future husband is wondering why I'm "taking your crap"
when I'm excellent at standing up to his.
He's cooking dinner in the stylish two story home he owns
and wishing he had someone to share it with,
a blue eyed blonde, but only if she's me.
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170954
|
They perch on the curb in front of the factory, like so many rail thin crows exuding smoke from their haggard beaks.
They've been here.
They've been here a long while.
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170911
|
A famous author and an inspired writer meet at a coffee shop, both looking for inspiration. The patrons there don’t know if this meeting is by accident or design, but they are in awe of Fame.
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