1877 5 4
|
Aubrey pulled close the wool cloak that used to belong to a pilgrim and wondered if some of that saintliness and pardon might rub off. The mail was late and the bushes damp, but at least years of living in the woods had taught Aubrey to avoid thorns…
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187755
|
|
187753
|
I opened my switchblade mouth and sliced
through the scab of silence.
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187785
|
|
187710
|
"So" he started, which troubled me enough to turn back around and make such focused eye contact that I did not even notice his glass was again full, "you wanted to talk?"
|
187600
|
I found him dead underneath a sycamore tree. I knew it was a sycamore tree because of all the acorns surrounding the body.
|
187684
|
He was ready for the rub. Tense. She could always tell. The legs, the shuffles. He had to be frantic before he would come to her, his own wife. Vanity, fright. She could read him like a book open on the table, turn his pages the way a fish flakes. "It's comfort night,…
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187600
|
No one could understand. No one wanted to understand. They were all gripped with horror, fear flowing through every nerve in their body. Could it be a serial killer? Could it be an animal ? Could it be an accident? Or was this a prank gone bad ?
|
187576
|
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,…
|
187555
|
How would you like to leave the land of your ancestors, the place of your birth, the home of your identity?
|
187533
|
Hi, I'm Alexander Payne. I hate sex.
|
1875119
|
Your precious feet were there once, pressed against the familiar floorboards, where your poems suddenly appeared to you, flashing like lightning. I wonder which window they came in? Here's a thought: you were like that window. You caught…
|
1875910
|
When we were seventeen, after her dad, the preacher, finished his Sunday night church services that required our mandatory attendance, we'd walk to my car in the pasture-turned parking lot holding hands and stop at the passenger-side car door to kiss deeply, get…
|
1875106
|
I saw/
star shine in/
my silver pail
|
187583
|
I want her life to pass in a world without meridian
|
18752217
|
While you can,/
find the beautiful
|
187410
|
Conjoined - her hardened nipple brushing, softly, against him, his chest hair caressing her skin like a thousand hungry lovers’ fingers – the perfect moment lasted eternity.
|
187443
|
"I accept it," Leo said in a low voice. "I accept it all. I know who I am, I know who you are, I might even know who Martin is, now. We all have to share this. I think I will forgive you, because I can'
|
187486
|
We are prisoners of anticipation.
|
187421
|
Clare sits bolt upright in the hard plastic chair, warily tracking every passer-by. In her lap, Kim’s hair is damp with sweat, dark blonde curls melting against her flushed cheeks. Clare absently strokes the length, soothing both of them.
|
18741514
|
I bear the wrong gin. Your air conditioner runs cold. It is either frigid or off, the gauge broken. You are not too old to overlook these things. You can't be choosy, but you will never beg. Just an occasional choice as you settle into this…
|
187300
|
“It's going to be hitting around the mid-90's tomorrow” said the television expert. “So what? Like 1995?” “Maybe, perhaps even '96” “Does this mean I should break out my Backstreet Boys record?” …
|
1873105
|
Rounding a corner, Clarissa wiped out and hit the floor chin-first. She wailed and the dildos skittered away under a display.
|
187343
|
Maybe it’s the cold that has me seeing double. My sister in Florida would probably laugh, “I told you so” as she sips her pumpkin latte in the barely-cold.
|
187322
|
Pauleen tries to split open her legs because she doesn’t understand how to love someone without them.
|
187300
|
And Mickey said to the reporter, "I wrote a play for Richard. It is the wild play I performed with Richard. I think he will like this shit."
|
187320
|
I remember being sent a picture once from one of my old roommates, Louise, back in Chicago where I came from. The photo was taken when she’d come out for a visit to California. In the picture I am sitting on the front stairs of my house in the Rockridge
|
187321
|
The air has its dark confessional, and I have mine. Hot is called raw by some, hate mixed with malice for others. I am only separated by this dark window of time from you, but you never feared the lovely or the lonely.
|
187320
|
...will it be as overwhelmingly dull and tedious as de Sade?
|
18731110
|
Someone will labor to keep it alive/
although the body will want but/
to return to random particles
|
