1792 8 5
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The strange bones of language
wander the room.
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1792 9 5
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The border crossing at El Paso will soon be arriving. I'm apprehensive about Mexico, all the violence.
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1792 3 2
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Not a fuss, not a stink,
The eulogy, deep, will make one think,
Grandmother, sat in back, will wink
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1792 6 0
|
The two walked around, taking in all the classics: the imported Russian matryoshka dolls of varying styles and bright colors; spinning tops, red Radio Flyer wagons, kaleidoscopes, and wooden yo-yo's invoked memories of Christmases past. The hand-stitched
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1792 17 14
|
I'd laugh, cry, splutter with confusion or outrage. I'd probably say “Duh” a lot, grow pale, flush, and wink at the viewers. I'd furrow my eyebrows, raise one or both, and my eyes would narrow, widen,…
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1792 2 1
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[CAUTION: "DISINTEGRATION OF THE FUNCTIONING PSYCHE," IS, APPARENTLY, A "DEEPLY PERSONAL" EXPERIENCE!"]
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1792 10 5
|
As a boy I fished under the Tappan Zee bridge which spans the Hudson River above New York City.
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1791 3 0
|
“He looks funny again,” the twins would say. “Cow looks funny, Mummy.”
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1791 2 0
|
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…
|
1791 4 3
|
You lose her. In the vortex of guttered water, her tangled hair entwines. Tornado-like. Her body spinning boisterously at its core. Her name: Izra—the wooden doll with black pebbled eyes. …
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1791 7 4
|
and the moon shines on like a silver dollar
and coyotes in the desert scream and holler
|
1791 9 6
|
Some nights you really feel it.
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1791 12 11
|
Coward, cuckold, she taunts: So be it. He's not a young man anymore, nor as clever as he once was, or thought.
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1791 6 2
|
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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1791 6 6
|
At night, I wake up, and Daddy's in the bathroom with a hanger in his mouth....
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1791 8 7
|
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1791 1 0
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He lost his patience and began ranting and raving, angry that he had to come home every night and feel like he was being smothered by a pillow. “I can’t make it stop,” she said. “I can’t make myself stop feeling this way.”
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1790 5 6
|
Just like D-Ray White’s tapping still bounces off the mountains if the right person is listening, Hasil’s hoots and howls are trapped in record wax like a blood-drunk mosquito in amber.
|
1790 0 1
|
A blonde girl, her youth evident beneath a cosmetic mask of bruised eye shadow and plum lipstick, claims the seat beside me on a train. A radiant six month-old gazes out from her hip, awe-struck at life, as my own son must have been at that age. I never e
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1790 3 2
|
Scientists have determined that a tiny freshwater organism known as the "bdelloid rotifer" gave up sex 40 million years ago. And you thought the spark had gone out of your marriage.
|
1790 3 1
|
At a time when jazz had its share of royalty–kings, dukes, and counts–Young was democratically elected the President by an aristocratic vote of one; the best jazz singer alive, his sometime lover Billie Holiday.
|
1790 1 2
|
“Why do you write filth?” they howl
|
1790 0 0
|
You enter the lobby of the office building tentatively at first - you're a little nervous about this interview, after all - but you recall how spectacular and professional you dressed that morning. Plus you read through the company's LinkedIn profile at least five times…
|
1790 2 0
|
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1790 7 7
|
They stand together in the doorway looking at the crib.
|
1790 10 6
|
Rarely is Quay Street so clean,
Monday in rain,
Neactain’s ticking over with
Slow jazz and crosswords,
Stout and steaming anoraks.
|
1789 8 6
|
With small and fleshy hands/
I scratch at enigmatic stones,
|
1789 7 5
|
A performance is a series of situations. Each situation defines the characters that are in it.
|
1789 9 8
|
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1789 6 5
|
The robot may be grabbing onto something so big I'm mistaking it for the countryside, or the sunset. I could just be one cog in an infinite chain of leg-attachment, stretching from the cosmos to the sub-atomic.
|