1783 3 2
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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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178341
|
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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178301
|
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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178331
|
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.
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178366
|
The real problem with being face blind isn't that you can't recognize faces. It's that people expect you to be able to.
|
1783115
|
when thoughts of you
waffle in through memories scent
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178300
|
"Did I have a dream, or did the dream have me?" - Rush, "Nocturne"
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1783117
|
On his knees
he divinates diverging lines
with belly laughs he levitates
the rebel spheres into geodes .
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178343
|
He puts on a choir of prepositions, 142 adjectives, 317 ramifications of cotton... and 177 semicolons engorged with cabbage.
|
178394
|
William Shakespeare (a surname that meant "wanker" back in the day, by the way)
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178310
|
Alicia got to third block early and scribbled down some of the derivatives homework. Others trickled in intermittently, drifting to their seats like impurities getting caught in a filter.
|
17832012
|
I say her- it might be him-/
but from a distance I supply the details I prefer.
|
178333
|
|
178365
|
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.
|
178301
|
And out on that lake that day you yelled “desperation please!”
And I heard “desperate pleas?”
I wondered about first impressions.
|
178223
|
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.
|
178245
|
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…
|
178233
|
They came early and parked up, under cover of the night and the giant oak. I only know this because people told me afterwards. Watching us, they were. It was six o'clock before they smashed their way in, scaring the three of us out of our wits. Baby Billy screamed the place…
|
178275
|
In the beginning was the Word and the Word was God. What on Earth does that mean? What the hell? Earth, hell, heaven, they were good concepts. He took a rib out of Adam and began to write with it.
|
178283
|
At the third or fourth discotheque I drink so much I accidentally find myself happy.
|
17821811
|
"We gotta get out of here", you said
|
178232
|
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.
|
17821210
|
published in The Doctor T.J. Eckleburg Review.
|
178252
|
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.
|
178195
|
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
|
178175
|
Biscuits and gravy. I'm off today, I'm lazy.
|
178100
|
“We all come out from Gogol's 'Overcoat'," said Dostoevsky. Well, sometimes, I think otherwise.
|
178198
|
Who are all these rough looking people, hanging over me, itching me with their shaggy, grapevine arms? Like twisting, dangling down, painted, cloth Gargoyles on a quickly coming apart, dried up rope? It's always been the same old perch to view from. You wanted to know…
|
178166
|
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.
|
178100
|
There won't be dancing, anymore. That isn't true, that can't be true; but there is no floor to dance on, you know?
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