1828 7 3
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Having read the poetry of Dennison
I hereby give up writing.
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18271211
|
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182720
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I love reading about myself. There's nothing more gratifying than seeing my name in the paper, knowing so many people are interested in who I am and what I do.
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182762
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he told me to be careful,my feet may bleedI watched him walk up and down the path,occasionally bendingwhy?carpenter nails, pieces of broken shinglesall along the pathnow I know why
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182721
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After only a few months’ practice I am able to dive deep within myself. Inhale. A millisecond stop and I am under the surface. I know there is something here within myself – some treasure that I have come to find.
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182786
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It's true push often comes to shove
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182712
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It distresses me that you will never lust after me /
the way you did for that girl /
who had her hands around your belt
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1827188
|
She’s there, in a tin, loosely wound
beneath sepia tissue paper, a braid
to worry in your fingers.
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182711
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The closed door swallowed up both voices, and all I could make out afterward were muffled pleas and angry answers that died completely.
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182775
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—You must be joking, he laughed.
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18272913
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With such demeaning precarity, I can’t read/
anything more than a thousand words
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18271213
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My wife goes away for a few days to the little town where Hitchcock filmed The Birds.
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1826124
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"Cooperation and sharing could eliminate poverty."
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182687
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I do so want to bring you into the sacred linguistically eternal loop of all ordinary things on earth, but it can so easily turn into a very sudden unsparing trapdoor, or a hissing angry knot tying up itself into even more tricky sorts …
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182676
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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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182633
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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
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182611
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No way to know why she's here, but scars and scabs can hold more information than a file or chart.
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18261714
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We have always been a trashy species./
We study ourselves by examining/
garbage-- a pile of mussel shells here,
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18261010
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One day we went for a hike. We climbed a small mountain. It’s called Mission Peak. We got about halfway up a steep trail, decided that was far enough. We embraced. She said “I love you,” and I said, “I love you, too.”
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182664
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A junkyard Bison seems an odd choice over the usual dog, but it did the job--trampling trespassers, vagrants and unautorized salvagers with a violent and admirable efficiency
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182666
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Learned & wealthy but slowly going mad
from seeing, he did the only thing he could/he turned to love
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182500
|
A Body Divided: Memoir
1
When I came back home, after coming down with polio, everything had changed for me. I'd been gone for forty-five long days and nights. But it was Halloween, a time very nearly sacred for children in the Midwest, and it broug
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182574
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not that we ever had before
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182511
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The muster zone was south of U.S. 119, off the Halleck Road. The search began on a large parcel, some 75 acres of farmland, property of one Mr. Shakelford. Shakelford had allowed the earth to go wild; brush, thistle and small…
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182532
|
It was hard to believe that, even very recently, there had been first days of school where nothing happened.
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182587
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“Susan,” he says menacingly, as if he’s a husband who’s caught a cheating wife in a discreet liaison with another man. “I thought I made myself clear about this sort of thing.”
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182511
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I’d made it to the motel parking lot when I heard the footsteps. A sombrero may make me look good, but it does shit for my hearing, so the bastards were able to scoop me up real quick. The first one gave me a hard slap on the top of the head with an opene
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1825113
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In May of 1982, my daughter and I planned a trip…
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182544
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At any moment, she'll come outside to pick up the day’s newspaper. He can see it resting beneath the blooming crape myrtle, its plastic wrapper glistening with dew.
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182541
|
What about the goons? Those criminals thwarted and left for dead in every action movie for the past thirty years. I'm sure at least a dozen survived the slaughters. I'm sure at least one or two came out if it reformed. This one who quit working for Columbian drug smugglers…
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