1594 8 4
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Our ink was disappearing. All of it.
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159411
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No, I’m not at the junior high bus stop. I’m at the dining room table with my parents.
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15942013
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1594138
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Every morning if I don't have to go potty....
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159462
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This wasn't going to be about her anymore.She tied her strong purple balloon to the neck of the wounded horse. Her skirt and her top felt like armor's breath. The tingle across her scalp felt warm. Small rug scrapes that made her think of her last dog, before she died.This…
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159487
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But what if it grew into a nasty tea party-ish bimbo right winger -- a little Michelle Bachmann nubbin?
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159400
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Back in the Dark Ages, the Mongols invented the first hamburger pattie. They put slabs of beef under their horses' saddles and after a few miles of rough riding -- voila! a flattened piece of cow meat. They then proceeded t
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15942311
|
The missions never change:/
To plant a bed of fast-blooming/
Flowers of annihilation/
Across an unspecific plain.
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15941411
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I visited the grave of Rimbaud. / It was pale blue
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159376
|
Scavenge at that address only if you feel possessed of great courage, a profound faith in resurrection or reincarnation, or an impatient desire for a premature date with certain death.
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159353
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“Me try anything,” he says, then laughs a little. “You’re fucked.”
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1593168
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Her clothing style varies from grunge to glamor and . . . she always looks good.
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159352
|
Yesterday morning I sank to the depths of hell and barely crawled out in time. There is no answer except possibly death that will find me relief from his distant presence. I am free but yet I am not and I slowly sink into a hollow world where nothing hurt
|
159300
|
Not long ago, Owen the Second showed her a skull. He kept it in a brown cardboard box in the top of the closet. "My first wife," he said, and sneered, his lip bunching up around a scar just under his nose.
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159344
|
He looks at me again, this time glancing down at my skinny jeans, “And... are you a single mom?” he seems to think he has it right, taking a last look at my aquamarine colored pants and the tapered area around my calves.
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159311
|
By: Roz Warren (and Janet Golden)I'm a humor writer. My work appears in publications from The Funny Times to The New York Times. Janet is a history professor whose writing was confined to academic journals and the occasional op-ed. Driving back from the Jersey shore one…
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159353
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They try to incorporate a little of Ravel around their edges, the ones where their molecules bump off into other parallel realities, into other non-localities, into other potentials. She isn't buying it. She's tuned in. And she can tell.
|
159365
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She used her right breast. Lifted it to her chin, aimed at the can, and shoved it down as hard as she could.
|
159332
|
my fingers vibrate magnetic/
a humming void/
where my brain was
|
159231
|
The world—the natural world—was terrible and beautiful in wartime. The leaves shuddered off trees. The pockmarked fields. The fallen brick chimneys. The way the birds heaved together in enormous flocks like rescue missions and then just as…
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159221
|
Librarians love me,
you want to know why?
I don’t dog-ear pages,
I don’t even try.
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159200
|
Dr. van Roos reminded the group that trauma is trauma...
|
15921513
|
San Bruno avenue, six shops in eight blocks. Those Vietnamese ladies thrive on the pedicure trade.
|
159265
|
Those who love aluminum bellies and landing gear and ailerons... that ilk... settled at the western edge of of LAX 24R 6L and called the encampment Flight Path.
|
15921811
|
It could be fun,/
with the guns, explosives, Molotov/
Cocktails and all,
|
159252
|
He is sitting in his bedroom trying to decide what to wear. He has an appointment at five. If he wants to make it he has to either catch the bus, which comes in about fifteen minutes, or drive in. If he wants to drive in he needs to put petrol in his car,
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159221
|
“What would you get? What should you give a lady who’s one hundred for her birthday?”
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159200
|
It was where the “Suits” worked. I didn’t want to go there, I didn’t want to be there, but in those days one did what one was supposed to do.
|
159174
|
Truman sits in his car on an early Tuesday morning. He rolls down both front windows down, but despite the infusion of fresh air, the car still smells of stale meat and sickness.
|
159154
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