1648 11 4
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My spooky cat got out again. Under the deck she ran. Out came the hose that chased her about. Fur spiked, tail pointing, yowling, she hissed at me, and back in the house she pranced. It's been two days now. She slithers out for food after…
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164720
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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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164733
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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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1647119
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Be careful when you choose your muse,
for she may be a siren.
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164710
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Lu peeked at his cards again. They were still jacks, and they still looked mighty nice.
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164776
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So, I escaped from the Iron Curtain out of Czechoslovakia, as was called then. That was in 1956 I escaped, and came to Chicago where all of you were for some time already. I know our grandparents came over in early part of century, but my part of family
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164700
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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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164700
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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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1647128
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1647128
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Warning: reader beware, there's sex in the air.
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1647102
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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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164600
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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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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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16461410
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One by one our friends are kicking the bucket. Let's get together. It's now or never, we figure.
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164676
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She tells me I have to face the fact that I have the heart of the Tin Man. I know the story. He had none. She is very sensitive and I have to measure my remarks because words bruise her so easily. So, I…
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16461715
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I'm a lot wiser now but so what?
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16461414
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A wrinkled man lie atop an ivory-clad mattress, matched sheets covered his body, matched hair covered his head.
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1646137
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His note said: “I’m sick of low attendance.”
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164611
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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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164600
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Mayra heard the bell ring and opened the door to her small home in downtown Havana. Mayra was in her 50's and had the beautiful dark olive skin of most Cuban people who have a mix of Caucasian and Negro in their blood.
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1646125
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Can’t you do anything right?
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1646105
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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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164576
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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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164588
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“Too dumb to live,” my wife said when cretins on a motorbike blasted around us nearly taking a side mirror with them.
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1645147
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Sex is a sad reason to be alone with someone.
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164512
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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
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164598
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I think I remember now why people write poetry.
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16452111
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I am not the wind./
I am a stone eroded by the wind
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1645139
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Writing as a form of imaginative hatred
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