1720 18 14
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There are things we must not say.
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172042
|
A father's soft neglect has repercussions.
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172076
|
He leans in close then, close enough that when he speaks, his words tiptoe out and tuck me in.
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172066
|
Learned & wealthy but slowly going mad
from seeing, he did the only thing he could/he turned to love
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17191413
|
The one-legged crow was back in the yard again today, as it was yesterday and may have been before, but yesterday was the first time I noticed it among the murder while using the binoculars that I often use to bring things closer, things like these iridescent and beautiful…
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171932
|
He was drinking heavily again and complaining that there was nothing fresh worth writing about.
|
171900
|
He awoke with a start. This was not the first time he did so. He couldn't afford these occasional bouts of sleep. And certainly not in the land of the Tsantsa hunters.
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171931
|
1. there's nothing more to say about it and I don't want to be drawn2. beautiful she couldn't hear me anyway I was desperate and there were moths3. they'd replaced his head with a picture of the moon he looked4. none of them were speaking English more like a ticking a…
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17191914
|
Maddy knew how to make a sauce. It embraced the meat in a thick, buttery ooze.
|
171921
|
How could you run from me now?
The loneliest child in the house
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17192913
|
With such demeaning precarity, I can’t read/
anything more than a thousand words
|
171931
|
Dark hung over the night like an occupation force. Across the street a Cuban diner fought it off with green and yellow neon lights, Latin rhythm beating through the air.
|
171822
|
I think fat will just appear, like a narcotics cop at my door, or something.
|
17181513
|
I am eternal/
as long as the power holds
|
171872
|
The guy stretches out his arm as he rounds up the herd of ducks that only want to bob. He pulls down his sleeve over a heart tattoo, faded from being seen so many times. It’s a skinny sort of heart tattoo, an askew heart from where I stand, an arrow fro
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171800
|
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
|
171897
|
God's real name is Frank, and he stops by all the time. He tries to dump that cheap Xmas candy on us.
|
171811
|
My best friend died yesterday. His name was Franklin Seever, but we all called him Lin. It started when we were in Little League. There were two Franklins on the team so Coach, who was my dad, called the fat one Frank and my best friend Lin.
|
171811
|
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171732
|
Chills begin on my hand where his cool lips meet my skin and ripple through me. I try to focus on the road and cock my eyebrow. “Not bad for a 15-year-old.”
|
171762
|
We’re on our way out, my brother and me, to the graveyard.
|
171730
|
His mouth went dry, but he managed to say, coolly, “Just how would you like me to do that, Sandra?”
|
1717108
|
Satchmo sings a love song over the sound system. People read books, tap keyboards, drink coffee, eat cake. In Barnes & Noble—more a coffee shop these days than a bookstore—I am thinking about my dad and his stomach cancer.The terror he…
|
171711
|
Normally I would have never drank such a wine, but it was late on a Friday evening and the bottle was on the house...
|
171732
|
and i'm almost out of cigarettes,
and fireworks and sorority girls
scream
from down the street.
|
171632
|
I've heard of sucessful marriages where there's very little sex.
My heart aches for that kind of love.
|
171621
|
Sarge had done this before. Not with this many rookies and not on a one-way trip. This was a suicide mission. The boys didn't know it, but he did. They weren't coming back. Hell, they couldn't come back
|
171674
|
|
171622
|
Christmas Eve arrives with a relief that the season of joy will soon be over so I can feel the pain I am denying myself. Rosie presses her face against the kitchen window, leaving ghostlike impressions of the tip of her nose and her lips on the glass tha
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171696
|
Gather 'round children, For it's high time to tell, The story of a strange man With a horrible, awful smell. For this is a story More disgusting than most. This is the gruesome tale Of Gary Von Gross. With a house made…
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