1778 7 7
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177832
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A married woman requests a butterfly tattoo that won't please her husband from an old tattoo artist.
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177800
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Boy meets girl. Girl meets boy. It was an unexpected meeting, but one that was sure to bring a lot of change for both. They met at a work event. Some friends wanted to put together a company and they had both been invited to be part of the project. Boy smiled. Girl remained…
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177810
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Creamcheese straightened out that spectacular yellow dress, tucking a fully exposed nipple back in under the material. She pulled down the hem of the dress, then strolled right into the Savoy like a wooden duck being pulled on a string, and headed straigh
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1778117
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She smacked his back a couple of times with the flat of her hand
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177821
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A sturdy and goatish original by know-nothing punks from the sticks. Who cares if we were puny and smelled like fresh milk? For a few years we played and rocked, even turned the Appalachian soundscape a little brown at the edges. At least at first. Mainly
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177800
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I went out behind Parker's house and saw Darrell's tent set up in the grass. The flaps of the pup tent were open. I could see him through the mosquito netting. He had a Coleman lamp burning and lay on his back in his underwear on top of his sleeping bag.
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177893
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Where I work people use words like leverage. They do not appear to denote anything.
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17771611
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I don't know how long I was down on the curb. When I came around it took several minutes to realize that it wasn't the moon overhead at all but a street light and the sticky feeling stuff I was lying in was, yeah, my blood. And the hand on my shoulder wasn't hers. I…
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17771813
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One must be drenched in words.
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17772216
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They come to mind/
like ice flowers/
on the small panes
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177795
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A little contempuous aside by the critical theorist guy, Frederick Jameson-- that it was logically absurd to call anything that human beings do, produce or effect “unnatural,”-- has brought forth the following. We are…
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177721
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I didn’t always have this metal thing poking out of the top of my head. I used to be a self-respecting farm animal amongst a barnyard of toys, but then the kids grew up.
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177722
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"Honey," I called out to my wife. "Why do we have Spam in the closet?"
"You mean unsolicited bulk messages sent electronically?"
"No--the canned, precooked meat product made by the Hormel Corporation."
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177733
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Nearly everyone knows of that celebrated poet’s story coming down to us from classical Greek mythology: the tragic tale of Orpheus and his descent into the underworld to rescue his beloved Eurydice. Well, there’s a much lesser known story of a legendary 7
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1777123
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177721
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Four nights out of sevenI will lay with youFour nights out of sevenIt's the best I can do In the day, we will bake our breadAt night, ha, we will break our bed!Four nights out of seven, I will be with you
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177742
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Renee said, "I have actually slept with a number of Captains of Industry and would rate them, overall, deficient in skills."
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177796
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Every time she tries to sleep they come; legions of small armored things scuttle claws aloft across the purple sand as soon as she stops moving.
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177742
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In a small, cozy diner lived a homemade meatloaf. The meatloaf spent its days lounging on a warm plate with some mashed potatoes and sweet corn. Together they watched television, argued about sports, and ate blueberry pie...
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177686
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Your faded presence in sepia dream returns, firelight whispers and vanilla scented ash. We were a beautiful knot: sinew and hemp, burlap and magnolia petal, concrete and vapor. Gray kisses hovered overhead, misty…
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177650
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In a little dirt church at the end of the world stands the ikon of an unrecognized saint.
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1775185
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The day you came home, after three extended tours in Afghanistan, I wanted to welcome you at the bus station, but I was afraid you'd attach yourself to me again.
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1775158
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Mostly, though, reiteration of the old/
in an idiosyncrasy that strives/
to become fresh and fails
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177511
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The pear is a bruise. Feels like desperation in the light, it looks soft and blue. She wants to touch it and doesn’t want to. How the blood gathers under the blue and the body grows tender. Swells. Slowly.
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1775117
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He said stuff like
‘Crikey that's a knife',” she said, “it was bad, really
really bad.”
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177566
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No one writes epics anymore. Why? Perhaps it's because we no longer share mythologies. Once there was a shepherd, and now there is a Google bus loaded with pricks. Yes, you say, but they are good at math. Each and every one of them. And this is true. I envy them…
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177566
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The coffin-sized pit in his basement wasn’t freshly dug.
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177500
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Would a chickenshit leave her like I did yesterday?
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177554
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He reveled in the chase, giddy when just out of arm’s reach. When to catch him, that was the question.
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