1748 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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Warning: reader beware, there's sex in the air.
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It was always your body that told so much --
lips working some secret out
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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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Some things I reject out right. That is I think I disagree As John put it. You can't play the game. I was never Too good at pretending. It's not that I can walk on water, It's that I don't mind getting my clothes wet to get away From all the…
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that guy/ MOSTLY understood / endings
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He took off his sombrero and playfully placed it on my head. “And really, don’t be upset. You’re fine. There’s nothing wrong with loving your cat.”
He was right, there is nothing wrong with loving your cat. But there is something wrong with owning a di
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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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so I tighten hands with my castaway and say/you failed to impress in your folded peacock dress
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He puts on a choir of prepositions, 142 adjectives, 317 ramifications of cotton... and 177 semicolons engorged with cabbage.
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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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I have two of those hand exercisers jamming the
tray and keeping it locked in place
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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.
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Now comfy is as comfy does, but when sleeping strange, please accept a wide range of cradle, crib, cave.
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1747 3 1
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The man next to me on the Shinkansen from Tokyo to Kyoto makes me think of the smokers I’ve kissed.
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1746 5 4
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It turns out I know a thing or two about momentum. I know, I know. Like the crescendo of your bicycle wheels. Like the force the florist put on the stems the day Linda died. The way my fingers spin between planetary mass. This is how I know I’m not real
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Her clothing style varies from grunge to glamor and . . . she always looks good.
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...the knives she laid out on the porch before her husband left her, washed and dried, set neatly by copper pennies.
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1746 3 1
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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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The strange bones of language
wander the room.
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An action oriented solution for bovinity
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From a window, the young Pole Krzysztof Penderecki saw resistance fighters hanged by Nazis...
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1746 3 2
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Your grandmother has gotten old, in that way where one day you wake up, and you realize that someone you've been looking at your whole life suddenly looks different. That hands which used to gently place band-aids on scraped knees are…
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1746 7 6
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Uh oh, the dry cleaning ticket
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1745 6 5
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You may think you've tasted envy, but yours was just a sour sip of wine at a civilized wine-tasting. Mine is bottom-shelf, well-brand gin in a biker bar with miss-the-urinal piss stains on the floor.
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1745 4 2
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The villagers smash in a garage door with their heads, causing some to bleed from the ears and mouth.
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1745 7 5
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Biscuits and gravy. I'm off today, I'm lazy.
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1745 10 0
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It’s been stored away in the cedar chest since my mother put it there in the early 60’s, well, 1962 to be exact. She was a careful woman, but over these many years the bow has flattened, and the wind-up parts have corroded some from non-use. Oh, the
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1745 4 5
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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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