1649 1 1
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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.
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164964
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An action oriented solution for bovinity
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164900
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And the ocean was black and green and blue—as your dress that clung to your body’s curve. Round as the bend of the water trailing the false line of the shore.
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164900
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Do I feel good about any of that? Not really. But I seem to find myself asking over and over again, why should I care? That's something that's never happened before. But I'd be lying if I didn't say I kind of liked it.
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164920
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Last night aliens invaded our dishwasher.
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164900
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164820
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I was thinking everything was OK, until one day I woke up and realized that I was living on an entirely different planet, and you seemed like a complete stranger to me. I was feeling so ashamed of these feelings, that I couldn't even tell you about them. I couldn't…
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164834
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IT's like, 15 words. Do you really need a snippet?
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164810
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Lu peeked at his cards again. They were still jacks, and they still looked mighty nice.
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164800
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The museum’s catalog description changed much less than the painting over those years. He wasn’t curator-in-chief of catalog descriptions, however, that task went to a curator arriving by another door.
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164821
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the Griot Grrrls stopped playing their distinctive brand of power progressive acoustic worldfunk at open-mics around campus
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164864
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What in the name of God’s green earth does this say? “Chifferobe if you can of Aztec in coffee can”?
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164863
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There was something about her eyes that he couldn't shake.
He stood in line, waiting for his chicken finger tenders and one large size 32 oz. cola. No salad (a childhood aversion he had never abandoned), and no mashed potatoes. Friday night and the eve
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164800
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Walking home, carrying his guitar case, Jed felt the sums of his life adding up to dangerously high numbers, the deadly inertia of vaguely comfortable apathy swallowing his time. His moment would soon be fading. Because, like many young men before him, Jed…
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164832
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She looks exactly like my sister, though I do not have a sister.
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1648105
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As a boy I fished under the Tappan Zee bridge which spans the Hudson River above New York City.
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164874
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You're on the Ferris wheel, and the wind is blowing just a little bit, and the sky is invisible behind a wash of white clouds, and your little yellow box tips when you look down, down to the fairway swinging. In the boxes below grandmothers are shrieking …
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1648102
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I won’t be eating much anyway if someone doesn’t start reading me. I’ve got to get a hook so people will be drawn to my work. I’ve got a few concepts I’d like to share with you. See what you think.
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164700
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I walked around the mountains and the gravel roads that once were my home. The rain made tiny rivers in the clay that ran hard and fast, and I splashed in them until my feet were saturated and my hair was stuck to my face and in my mouth salty and I cried
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164782
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Entering that darkroom is like slipping through the barrel of a rifle.
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1647119
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Be careful when you choose your muse,
for she may be a siren.
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164798
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Bert also said that somebody else at the meeting was complaining about his high blood pressure, and Bert repeated what Hank had said, that he was glad to have any blood pressure at all.
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164710
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Alicia got to third block early and scribbled down some of the derivatives homework. Others trickled in intermittently, drifting to their seats like impurities getting caught in a filter.
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1647125
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Can’t you do anything right?
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164676
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"We all knew that the thirty-eight year old mother, with the house on the hill, was having an affair with Darren, a fifteen year old boy, but no one did anything about it. When he was sixteen the parents found out and were furious, but the police were ne
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1646147
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Sex is a sad reason to be alone with someone.
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164642
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The villagers smash in a garage door with their heads, causing some to bleed from the ears and mouth.
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164699
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He remembered waking up on those lazy summer days hearing the sad song of mourning doves.
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164698
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Who are all these rough looking people, hanging over me, itching me with their shaggy, grapevine arms? Like twisting, dangling down, painted, cloth Gargoyles on a quickly coming apart, dried up rope? It's always been the same old perch to view from. You wanted to know…
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164698
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I think I remember now why people write poetry.
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