1570 15 16
|
He didn't hide it. He told her he was a mortician when he called. He had responded to her ad in the Lonely Hearts section of the newspaper.
|
157066
|
Ok, so I’m sitting here trying to write through a frigging cold. And I. . .Oops, . . . . . . wait a sec!. . . I’m stopped, astounded, stunned between coughing my left lung clear over my keyboard and watching it flopping on the back of my desk. . .
|
157065
|
52. they hate the word hate
|
15701611
|
he thought of her / longingly
|
157084
|
I awake one morning to find that still,
the leaves continue to fall.
|
157031
|
It's Granny hauling her crooked soul into heaven. Guess who I stole that image from?
|
157032
|
The most beautiful possible thing is to deprive all places of their meanings.
|
15701110
|
Someone will labor to keep it alive/
although the body will want but/
to return to random particles
|
157052
|
Elvis awoke in a cold, dank sweat, hungover from bourbon and bad dreams.
|
15701817
|
Johan was telling stories about the occupation. The Germans were stupid, he said.
|
156932
|
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.”
|
156955
|
The white faces of the train look up in an attempt to satisfy presumption, smoothing out any interest into glassy eyed gestures toward looking but lacking the very important quality of sight.
|
156900
|
I found him dead underneath a sycamore tree. I knew it was a sycamore tree because of all the acorns surrounding the body.
|
156921
|
Forgive me father for I have sinned.”
“Tell me how you have sinned, my son?”
Lies, father. I have told lie after lie in pursuit of my personal gain. I have lied to my family, my friends, to thousands of people who desired nothing from me but the tr
|
156942
|
The way things are looking, we haven't got long on this earth. The whole human race is in trouble. And forget global warming, the ground wars all over, the death of the oceans, Pat Robertson, that shit. Those are annoyances,…
|
156985
|
Without warning his eyes expertly navigated into a closed position setting off the dream machine long without power until this very second.
|
15692112
|
the birth of a long, dark age//
where the wealthy will be eaten by the poor/
and the poor will be eaten by disease
|
15691512
|
I took Annie to the zoo, and the tigers got out. The little tigers, that is. Cubs. Two of them. The zoo employees scurried about, peeking into nooks and crannies.
|
156810
|
[He] practiced aromatherapy and licentiousness, in no particular order.
|
156812
|
Harold’s a thinker, authors their plans. Last week he swiped six encrusted cans of Stroh’s from a faded cooler in his dad’s garage. He and LS guzzled each one in a chigger-weed patch behind the school gym, slurping and thumbing a stack of purloined
|
156845
|
I have/been you/years before/of course
|
156811
|
No, I’m not at the junior high bus stop. I’m at the dining room table with my parents.
|
1568108
|
When I stumbled upon evidence that the man I'd loved and trusted for 20 years had a secret girlfriend for the past 10 of those years, he tried to deny it.“We never had sex!” he told me. And I believed him. For about two minutes.“You never…
|
156875
|
I am standing in the kitchen, kneading dough, because this is one way to say sorry. This is way to say, things will be different now, look.
|
156897
|
God's real name is Frank, and he stops by all the time. He tries to dump that cheap Xmas candy on us.
|
1568103
|
When she was nineteen, she began to brew a baby in her belly. She named it, and sang to it, and organized the leftover hand-me-downs that hadn't been worn ragged through by the first seven sets of recipients.
|
156871
|
I’m in high leather boots; I’m talking many dead cows here and I respect that
|
156874
|
|
156875
|
A performance is a series of situations. Each situation defines the characters that are in it.
|
156878
|
of any cautionary tale is somewhere found rolling around in your own sweet voice for me. Your sound's still listing there inside my wobbly head. My head is too often in my open hands, grinning behind its face-mask like a parade on…
|
