1750 6 2
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"What the fuck are you looking at, Carl?" She snaps, turning her head toward me as the truck edges off the road and into a field of tobacco, into those broad green leaves of ancient sacristy and modern ablution. This is not a blissful kind of field. It is not full…
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175000
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Everyone else in the bar was looking everywhere else: it was as though they were alone while Journey played loudly all around. “Streetlights, people,” she sang. Time didn't move. What she must be like while driving, singing to herself with the windows fog
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175021
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Five o’clock, and Madame choosing her evening legs. Elizabeth assisting. Elizabeth will continue to assist until midnight, despite the chaos, at which point the authorities will tell her such assistance is no longer necessary.
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1750184
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Why is the sky grey he asked meI don't know, I saysudden flashes of light snowbloat the cloudssea gulls are squawkingexpect them to peck at my headI have nothing to feed them
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175010
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My only celebrity anecdote involves seeing Barbara Bush in the back of the Presidential limo ...
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175084
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When Roger was small his two favorite toys were a tiny, squat doll called Care and a rubber millipede.
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175053
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Smoking is like hooking up with an ex-girlfriend: you know she's bad for you and that it won't work out, but it feels so familiar and comfortable and so easy to slide back into.
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174922
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I remember thinking the seasons are arriving later every year,
as if the world has been slowed by the weight of graves.
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17491813
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Taken by agents of the United States of America, Felix Six-Killer grows up at the Carlisle Indian School near Philadelphia, the city of brotherly love. His hair is cut and oiled. His shirts are starched and creased. For months he is startled to find himself seated for…
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174921
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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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174946
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Two cars smashed together, the sky started to look like a foot infected with gout...
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174996
|
I have always admired flat-chested women.
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174985
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I didn’t question any of it and instead sat motionless as she dropped my wrists and walked away seconds later.
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1749102
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She was about 35 or so and noticeably pregnant. She was near hysteria when she knocked on our apartment door, right across the street in L.A. from a convent. But she took one last desperate wild look at me, standing at the door. I saw the animal in her ey
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174961
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In his mind, he could hear Eve’s voice, “We had some good times, didn’t we?”
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174997
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When I first arrived/footling-breeched/you two were there/ahead of me.
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174964
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the first day of preschool/ my mother walked me down the street/ to a tall building that cut/ like a knife made of bricks/ right into the street,/ an american flag/ sticking straight out/ just above the door.
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174942
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I imagined the crystals in my mouth.
Salt flowers blooming on my tongue.
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174896
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A horizon shrinks a burden until it’s a seagull getting fat off vinegar fries. I’m in love with the way your mouth moves when you aren’t talking. When it fills with salt.
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174811
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...the loving and very painful hurt of our daily sustenance
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17482011
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The box thuds at your feet: mug, plant, wedding photo, the 25-year pen.
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174865
|
There’s a hole in my sock, just large enough that my big toe keeps slipping out.
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174842
|
There were three other guys on the bus. The landlord (or buslord) let us use the kitchen and bathroom in the house he shared with his wife. I rode into San José City College with the other guys, who were also taking classes there. I remember frigid autum
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174810
|
Leda looks back over her shoulder at us as the swan
grips her from behind while at the same time nipping at
the nape of her neck. She's a freckled child and
a little frightened. There's a dark smudge beneath her eye
where the shadow runs. The swan
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174854
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Quail looked up at her. Unsmiling, challenging.
Lemme just go wash my hands, he said.
She closed the door, bolted it. You won’t need your hands.
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174885
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Twice burned, it buries its graves.
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174864
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We need to keep writing
because the great ones
aren’t always that great
We need to keep writing
to insure that the future
even has a future
We need to keep writing
because the wind won’t know how
or when to listen if we don’t
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174831
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174782
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Entering that darkroom is like slipping through the barrel of a rifle.
|
174752
|
We lay in what we have made, minute fleshy bullets in the target we have made.
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