1683 21 8
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Wind pummeled me awake, smelling of pine and some quality of newness I could not identify...
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168363
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You took up residence on the dark side of things, a bolthole in a wind-flayed right angle of a tower block where pigeons and suicides tumbled blackly on the air currents. You set about drifting off from who you were on a tide of cheap whisky and bad poetry, graduating…
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168311
|
Perhaps a blue person is more alive underneath than a red. Red is eye-catching and flashy, but blue is substantial, secretive. Of course, blood is red, and there’s nothing more substantial than blood, but we’re on blue at the moment, and the thought
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168353
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The thing was, though, she couldn’t shake the image of that dead dog she had found inside the black trash bag she thought could be first base, right before the twins said, Screw the game, let’s swing.
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168276
|
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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168253
|
Hunger only makes people hungry, but bad hair can ruin your whole day.
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168255
|
These are the small miracles we witness from my barrio stoop.
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16821512
|
She wears three or four tattered sweaters on cool days. She pushes a basket borrowed from a grocery store. There is a plastic lawn bag in the basket with God knows what inside.
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1682112
|
I watched you knee deep in water with a little boy you were hitting.
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1682108
|
The planet looks so peaceful from space doesn't it? Want a blue Gumball? Like a pancake batter with bluish dye mixed into Its big yellow bowl and carried out by a winking Victorian Butler. Like a bowling ball with just the right Weight for your…
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168262
|
"What is a vageena?" I wanted to know.
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1682159
|
fat furry marmots who play hide and seek
|
168273
|
Having read the poetry of Dennison
I hereby give up writing.
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168262
|
If we thought that love was gone
that out of sweetness none remained
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168112
|
["GET UP, GET GET, GET DOWN ... 9-11'S A JOKE IN *your* TOWN!"]
|
168143
|
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1681176
|
The Viper turns so quickly that Father's grabbing hand now faces its head instead of its tail.
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168120
|
A spark is a gouged word: stewed to annihilate, scrambled, botched in a pot to dry. Lead us to the quiver, let us tremble. Noon, we paw nails under rugs, run fingertips over books, rip cupboards from hinges and spiral open the machine, for the creature is near the roof or…
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168175
|
my God, I have no time, no time
|
1681148
|
When Kat returned home from The East Street Wars, she learned that her epileptic lover, White Dog, died from madness
|
16811514
|
I wrote this during a poetry workshop at the Atlantic Center for the Arts with Carolyn Forché. January, 2015. So much more has happened since that stunning week.
|
168101
|
It was with the departure of their last child that the Beazleys became grotesquely petty with each other.
|
1680124
|
"Cooperation and sharing could eliminate poverty."
|
168010
|
As Gino exited the supermarket, plastics bags in tow, he began doing curls with his right arm. He’d been doing this for years, reasoning that he might as well get some exercise during the walk home.
|
168033
|
I know I’m slipping
into my mother’s skin. I answer the phone
with her voice; her hands grind the coffee beans.
And who is this listening to NPR in the morning
while the fresh-faced girls in the neighborhood trudge toward school,,
peonies han
|
168066
|
A son packs his bag - bottled water, extra masks, and jerky. Mom paces behind him. “Don't go.”
|
168077
|
How much do book editors earn? Peacock Love. (aww…)
|
168000
|
My novel-in-stories, NAN, is now available as an ebook for $6.99. Thanks to everyone who read the first 7 published stories here on Fictionaut.
|
16801512
|
You should have
marked that territory like a conquistador,
mounted him like an equestrian, left no
what-ifs in your wake.
|
16802816
|
Lately he's been wanting to write about love...
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