1538 6 4
|
And she warms her hands on fresh-cut gizzards, And he forgets the taste of honeyed peaches
|
153810
|
Priests didn’t just disappear, not without a reason, so there hadn’t been any doubt when Merrick was suddenly replaced. No one had said it, but they didn’t have to. And her boys, thank God—at least he’d done nothing to them.
|
153810
|
I’m not sure if it was the fishnet stockings. Or the pouty red lipstick. Or the tight black leather skirt. Or the mountainous breasts
|
153820
|
He slumped forward, drooling into his lap.
|
153810
|
You're stupid drunk. And not feeling so good. You know you should stop doing this. But what else is there to do, especially since your brother went in? And now Roberto's gone to pick up his lady and left you alone, empty. Couldn't even drive you home. You don't…
|
15381213
|
The mulch vendor is a crook but we have no choice, not with the shortage of soil. Have to guard the stuff, put alarm wires around the garden, leave a friend in charge to spot the thieves if you go away overnight. If you…
|
1537116
|
The time has come
to scrape the wax from my menorah.
|
1537109
|
|
153700
|
After seventeen years of struggling to wake up early in the morning, I had managed to wake up on my own. Actually, I think it was because I was unable to sleep that I was up so early. I had laid on the bed all night, staring at the dark ceiling, taking in every…
|
153723
|
① / empty space / not black / not white / not noise / blanck
|
1537219
|
|
153733
|
I remember mad strong words out of a teenager, fresh from the shower without a blouse: First! He will be my age, period! He will be the first to walk me to my room as my fear crashes to earth, final, considered.
And I will be the first to milk the w
|
1537116
|
She stood with her sisters, pretty maids in a row, felt cold despite the scorching spring sun. Heard what the man said but didn’t register; words from the Lord flew around her like the flighty trill of the robins up above. The birds made more sense.
|
153720
|
At first it was just holding hands and talking about Ricky's condition. Then it was leaning into each other on the sofa, Ben whispering my name into my hair, me wanting to put my hand on his thigh.
|
153731
|
If girls have keys for fingers then locks cannot hold them.
|
1537113
|
He had a country house, she said, but it was near the city. She said the house was about as old as he was and she loved it— from the wood-framed windows to the heavy wood doors... to the garden on the side of the house
|
153695
|
Parsimony, Sage Advice, Alimony, and Time.
That would be one.
The Waste Land. The Hollow Men. The Red Wheelbarrow.
There are others,
But I have definite shoe anxiety dreams and can’t get over them.
Do not Go Gently Into That Good Night. Alone
|
15361813
|
One must be drenched in words.
|
15361413
|
My art teacher hated Salvador Dali.
|
153641
|
Sunday afternoon was the best. The kids drew straws for a chance to sit on the stool in the Kitchen with the broken armrest. I think mom thought it was an antique but it was just a piece of shit her dad picked up second hand.
|
153632
|
Does life have an expiration date Alice asked herself? One must be careful when trying to deal with a broken person; you might cut yourself on their shattered pieces. Life can be like an arrow penetrating your heart. Hard and painful to pull it out, yet i
|
153611
|
so I tighten hands with my castaway and say/you failed to impress in your folded peacock dress
|
153687
|
But what if it grew into a nasty tea party-ish bimbo right winger -- a little Michelle Bachmann nubbin?
|
153620
|
It is a dark and stormy night, naturally
We’re trying to get some sleep
at a Travelodge in Eureka
when I get up at 3 a.m. to write
“Hard motel pillow receives snoring from neighboring room”
O Thesaurus, we need another word
Maybe it sh
|
153633
|
You were sitting on dark leather meringue, wearing slit ivy, epilated thighs sliding through, roots showing beneath your anaemic skin, fighting with the pale bluegreen of your veins. Quills extended from your left hand, bent about 10.2 degrees or so.
|
15362913
|
With such demeaning precarity, I can’t read/
anything more than a thousand words
|
153674
|
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 …
|
153531
|
Her dress swirled around her as she stepped into the ballroom, looking every bit as sultry as her recent Playboy cover...
|
15352014
|
the doomed, but splendid,
first year GT40.
|
153543
|
Still no rain. Eight months, says Hollister. More like nine, says James Earl. We stand in Hollister’s high meadow, what’s left of it.
|
