1707 6 4
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It was a lover’s dark. They had been talking for hours when daylight lost interest and had gone elsewhere for sport.
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170695
|
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
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1706148
|
In the gutter, the paper signs turned back to pulp.
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1706127
|
The fish would need a name, but she didn’t know how to tell if it was a boy or a girl. Did fish have penises?
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170656
|
in our teens as tough as the cold/we wore denim and flannel with our boots/kicking at whichever wind blew . . .
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170611
|
so I tighten hands with my castaway and say/you failed to impress in your folded peacock dress
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170682
|
Once, when he had been married for a year, she sent him a card which said, "If you have seen a cat smoke a pipe, you have got it made." There was an illustration of a big, black panther, standing up on its hind legs, smoking what looked like a big tub of
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1706156
|
It was not that he was boring – it’s just that he needed a lot of encouragement. When he came, he whispered to himself, ‘ohgodohgodohgod’ - like it was something to be ashamed of, to be sorry for. I wanted to hold him close against me but I also n
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170632
|
Not a fuss, not a stink,
The eulogy, deep, will make one think,
Grandmother, sat in back, will wink
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170600
|
...Loves and fights and retires; / And dies.
|
17062311
|
The missions never change:/
To plant a bed of fast-blooming/
Flowers of annihilation/
Across an unspecific plain.
|
1706109
|
Mosaics are a trick of the eye, seeming
|
170621
|
Miriam forced herself to focus on the kitchen door and on putting one foot in front of the other.
“Is everything alright?” she heard Ada ask the family.
“Of course, everything is fine,” the woman said. “What could be wrong other than the impossible serv
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170673
|
|
170584
|
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.
|
170587
|
Co-workers have started calling him Jesus, Manson, Foghat, Doobie Brother, hippie, hipster, Grizzly Adams, Dude Lebowski... there’s really no end to it.
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17051512
|
He hiked the hills of her condition
She biked the path of his delight
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170521
|
I knew I spoke out of turn when I asked my father's old friend Charlie Jobe what he thought would come of moving to the veterans' camp, or "Village of the Deranged", as the newspaper has since taken to calling it. That was their description after all the
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170500
|
My cats are my world and more. They are rotund, little indoor-girl cats, though, who were taken from their mother too early to learn things like hunting and properly washing their privates, and so they think the mouse is just another interesting thing to
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170545
|
On Soapography, two actresses are discussing
everyone’s personal heaven, and in another room
you can hear a woman who is your dead mother
combing her hair in a doctor’s smock in a dream,
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170565
|
Nor woke, as always, to a dark room smelling of the lavender she kept in little bottles to perfume the otherwise stank air. Outside, she could still see the edge of the moon hanging there like a lopsided smile. The early summer wind blew in and stirred the faded floral…
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170533
|
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…
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1705137
|
That year, if you asked Al, was truly the best of times, the worst of times.
|
170566
|
|
170565
|
Resting bitch face strikes again.
|
170599
|
Our Irish tradition is rich in Yeats, drenched in Bushmills.
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170523
|
① / empty space / not black / not white / not noise / blanck
|
170500
|
Sometimes he could feel so small he believed he could fit through the eye of a needle.
|
170532
|
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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1705149
|
I crave the confines of the convent
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