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Black tagliatelle with squid and funghi porcini. He didn't understand why they called it a special, it had been in the menu since day one they had opened.
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Poets are more like Jesus,/
suffering the cross
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Astrid hadn't always hated him.
They met at the Beta house in the fall of his junior year. Typical Friday night. Stoned, drinking beer. He and Red Chapman sitting in their room playing guitars. The girls in their blues jeans. The guys from the house hi
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He was the tall, whippy type. Dangerous.
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I kept a journal
for so many years
I've forgotten
everything I wrote.
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That morning, four children appeared in front of the train, which was ready to depart
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This weekend was supposed to be about intellect and soul-mating, but, like all others, it's turned into body and longing. You sit in my passenger seat and I let you smoke in my wee car with the windows rolled down. We've come from a wedding, a fairy ring, a…
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The man and the whore lay in bed together. It was a cold night and they were warmed by the heat beneath the…
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It felt like he'd just taken his marriage out into the woods, forced it to its knees, and put a bullet through its head. Or they had, together.
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He looked straight at her, not to challenge her, but to better gauge what it was she would throw at him. Her eyes always darted to the thing right before her red, swollen fingers snatched at it, like a thing possessed.
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a Ferris wheel gently rocks
its last riders
then dumps them to the ground.
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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
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Xao Ping reflexively dug her claws into the plush chenille of the sofa and let out a low yowl. She knew the old lady would be mad if she tore the fabric, but she couldn’t help it.
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The Numbers will never romp up the stairs from the laundry room to slip warm socks on your feet on a winter’s night.
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Residual flashbacks; just tiny bright lightning bolts that flash in front of my eyes, just like standing watching a soaring bonfire on a cold and frosty November night, pinprick sparks flying up into the endless darkness of the night.
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a store called ROCKING FROCKS. In its window was a black tee shirt that said in big white letters, I'M NOT A SLUT, I'M WITH THE BAND.
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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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“Choices overwhelmed us,” Thomas continued, years later, “like waves crashing.”
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All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way. All was confusion in the Lubrecht house. Baby Lubrecht had discovered that his favorite blankey, thought by him to have been lost, was in fact being used by his older sister, Lilly Lubrecht.…
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The moonlight news is brutal
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I tell my woman friend the new man's penis is too large. I tell her once. She asks me later whether I asked about it at the doctor's—large cock, she calls it, and I say I told the doctor my boyfriend's in a wheelchair.
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I was squatting in the living room at the party handling foreign currency. Two W.A.S.P. men in dark grey suits—we were partygoers new to each other—told us to keep the money. We removed the bills from a black leather album.
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We wore cowboy hats and jeans in the pictures. They both came off once his camera disappeared.
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It was so hot we walked out on our husbands. There were reasons, we supposed. They left the refrigerator doors open all day, grabbing beers when they passed by, tossing the sticky caps upon counters. They drove their Metropolitans to buy food, leaving th
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161253
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Retired cantor Janice Woltag Cohen just turned 50. We Boomers all know what that means. It's Colonoscopy Time!Colonoscopy! That fabulous 50th birthday present you give to yourself. Yes, it's yucky. But it's absolutely necessary. (It could save your life.)As kids…
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“I don’t want you to, not even for one minute,” she continued, tone empowered, “Blame yourself. If anything, you’re the only one who has ever given a damn…” she thought more, then added, “…besides Jeremy.”
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Your voice so soft / I wish it was touch.
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I can’t stop looking at the burly man to my left with the blue lips and three-inch mustache. He orders his fourth whiskey. He laughs at my melancholy like it was a flat thing--a dead animal to strip of its fur. Why be melancholic when you can float on whi
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He hasn't had a wedding ring in years. When George's knuckles began to swell — a little arthritis — his ring dug into his finger so bad his wife Loren took him to the ER and had it cut off. The ring, not the finger. He never knew there was a tool to cut rings,…
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but with a light, a rainbow light which was scattered, maybe she herself was a scattering of light, an infinity of universes caught like the opening rays of sunlight
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