1788 5 2
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Snow fell against the windows casting shadows that danced like fireflies or flame—he couldn’t make out which for sure. He’d tumbled and bounced from balcony to balcony, the snow calming with the winds and gently falling, now.
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17881211
|
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178764
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She'd still rest her fingers on your back, and her smile still lit the lantern of your soul.
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1787147
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Sex is a sad reason to be alone with someone.
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178711
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...the loving and very painful hurt of our daily sustenance
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178722
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178783
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At the third or fourth discotheque I drink so much I accidentally find myself happy.
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1787117
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On his knees
he divinates diverging lines
with belly laughs he levitates
the rebel spheres into geodes .
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178721
|
Linus had it right with the security blanket he held like a beloved pet swan. Geneva had it all wrong with a pastel-colored music box, painted with impressionist-styled daisies and tied up in gold-ribbed pink bow. But it had come from her grandmother. Her
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178732
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The trash is full. Again. I open the bathroom trash—because the diaper genie is stuffed—but there’s no room. I try the kitchen next. The lid swings open, catapulting carrot shavings onto the floor. I lay the diaper on the counter for later.
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178712
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From a window, the young Pole Krzysztof Penderecki saw resistance fighters hanged by Nazis...
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17872012
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I say her- it might be him-/
but from a distance I supply the details I prefer.
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178776
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Uh oh, the dry cleaning ticket
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178654
|
My mother saw the Devil everywhere, even in my dance teacher, with his black leotards and chest hair like bean sprouts. "You're flamingos," he'd say in class when we balanced on one foot; when we lept into the air, "Now you're panthers!" I pictured him in a dark robe,…
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178632
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One night he woke up with Underdog laying next to him, breathing softly. He marveled at how fiction could make reality so much better.
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178632
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I have committed to nothing. Therefore I have committed to something. The first sentence is now moot, and this story will eat itself.
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178675
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Biscuits and gravy. I'm off today, I'm lazy.
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178666
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Age Eight: Custody battle. Reassure your worried mother that it’s alright, this will give you something interesting to tell your children one day. Until now, life has been very vanilla.
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178630
|
Talk To the Bionic Hand
“Scientists have discovered how to program intention into a bionic hand so that it will react to impulses from the brain like a normal hand”
Man found being choked by his own out-of-control bionic hand
after han
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17861811
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"We gotta get out of here", you said
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178644
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Kick your employer in the ass. Emotions are strange experiments in honesty.
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1786109
|
Mosaics are a trick of the eye, seeming
|
178632
|
We love the sparkling, speckless, spotless, spic-n-span, sanitary.
|
1786104
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Jasmine as skeined skins… of liquid hers, by willow courts, the lychee's water wains: as apple-moats flush fawn in russet light, through cherry floats, the leopard-dots of dawn. Branch to branchlet green …
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178523
|
My husband waits for him to hurt himself.
The boy drinks red wine between movements,
Staring hypnotically at the back
Of a girl’s head.
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178584
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The house had to be clean - I mean thorough-clean - when he got home from the pit for his tea, or he’d throw his plate at the wall and the gravy would run down onto the carpet. There was always gravy.
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178500
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The money stank on the table. Money is dirty she said, one of the dirtiest things. So many people touch it. This pile of brine would not explain its reek, only demanded that we accepted its stench as requisite. It had to have been the cash that stank, prior to its arrival…
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178545
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The summer when I was six and my sister Audrey was eight, she'd walk around our house pretending to be in a trance, fingers strategically hovering over my mother's vases and lamps, leaving smudges behind on my father's heavy oak desk and rocking chair. She'd lumber past my…
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178541
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Each drip off the corrugated plastic sheeting made a tinny sound that he could hear from deep within the damp sleeping bag and layers of blankets where he was trying to sleep.
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178532
|
fate is an illusion we use to ease the terror of our mortality
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