1704 0 0
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Dr. van Roos reminded the group that trauma is trauma...
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1704139
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Writing as a form of imaginative hatred
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170443
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"Hey, man. All we represent to them, man, is somebody who needs a haircut."
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170465
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There’s a hole in my sock, just large enough that my big toe keeps slipping out.
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170400
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And there sat one man. Searching for words and solace. The silence returned and the colors peeled off from the walls. Darkness returned with fledgling light. He threw back his head and filled the emptiness with his laugh. He laughed in mirth and in misery
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170433
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“What is the sickness that you have?” Colin behind the glass wondered.
“Too much world,” said Anise Fish.
“We have that in common.”
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17042015
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Falling Water almost fell./
12 million dollars later//
it will splay itself a little longer
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170485
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Twice burned, it buries its graves.
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170480
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The serious writer looks back on a long and distinguished career as an herbologist.
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170466
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Now, at last, she finds what she's been searching for. Worms. Like bitty pale larva, like half-moons of air trapped under fingernails. She thinks she sees one twitch; she blinks more furiously and hates herself for it.
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170400
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If you were the ozone,
I’d want to leave you gaping.
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17041211
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170321
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‘Miguel! A pint of Guinness, please!'
I might as well have asked for his mother's immortal soul. A smile as benign as a stiletto. But he served a clean and tidy pint.
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170333
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The next thing we knew, the KGB started tailing us everywhere we went. They must have heard about Lenin’s Paintings, was all we could figure. Because, what if they were real?
That night we went out to a pizza place where we saw the worst graffiti in t
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170333
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Everyone was shocked when they heard Tinkerbelle was six days gone and had got so heavy she couldn't fly. Who could have done it, everyone asked, but Tinkerbelle wasn't telling. So no one knew. That isn't true. I knew, and in this Declaration I swear I will tell…
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17031712
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love weaves a perforated web
between the spikes
of longing
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1703147
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170375
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In the beginning was the Word and the Word was God. What on Earth does that mean? What the hell? Earth, hell, heaven, they were good concepts. He took a rib out of Adam and began to write with it.
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170344
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Both his parents saved their pent up Puritan pasts to fill his ears with brimstone clichés.
"Idle time is the devil's playground", he would tell me, scrunching up his face, stuffing it full of meat lovers pizza.
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17031811
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It could be fun,/
with the guns, explosives, Molotov/
Cocktails and all,
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17031012
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A cult is one thing; it defies common sense that a commonly educated person cannot escape cultist thinking and belonging. That cult, A.A., is girded by police, fire, therapy, hospitals, insurance companies, and courts.
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1703128
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1703107
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Look at her. She doesn't want to be here. The kiss and “wouldn't miss it for the world” was as empty as her crossed arms, crossed legs, and jittery foot were loaded. She attacked the foam of her latte with a tiny red straw. I wanted to scream. Complain about the…
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170397
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They rise up, a sullen, sorrowful/
army of reproach, staring,//
stone-faced but eyed with fire.
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170242
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Looking with his ears, Hearing with his eyes, Not really mute, he simply didn't know how to speak.One word, then another string together,a crack spreads across an ice covered lake. Now there is an open channel, and his thoughts roil the…
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170200
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Her mouth was sour; her forehead was still damp with perspiration. She leaned against the bathroom wall and noted her complexion had gone pale. She wanted to slide down the wall and rest until she felt steadier, but…
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170210
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[He] practiced aromatherapy and licentiousness, in no particular order.
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170222
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I built the fence myself, strong and high and aesthetically pleasing. It was high enough to provide privacy on both sides, but from my bedroom balcony I could see everything. More than I wanted to see.
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170285
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When the malady struck and the world fell dark at noon, she and I groped the walls and found our front door. Outside, bewildered, we heard the whine of jets in free-fall, explosions in the imagined distance. And we heard a car — or was it a truck that veered…
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170265
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There is an empty space,
between every note in rock 'n' roll,
where they have buried John Bonham,
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