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Lake Berryessa, CALIFORNIA It was dusk on the 27th of September when the Stocky Man finished his work and trudged casually back across the…
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157962
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Her fingers scampered over the table, practicing the deft stitching of the basilar artery.
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157910
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I’m lying on the floor curled up in the foetal position and about six people are stamping on me. [...] It’s really confusing down here, what with all the kicking.
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157921
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Blood had soaked through his Converse All-Stars, and into his cotton sox. It was the smell of metal, of iron more specifically, that nudged his mind out from the fog of shock and denial, closer to the reality of his circumstances.
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157900
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Warren Jeffries left this girlfriend of his named Karen, who was also a poet, and overnight she announced she’d gone back to being a lesbian, she’d so had it with MEN! She did a reading of her new series of Sappho poems at Cody’s Bookstore,
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1579156
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Call it a spell or a prayer or a ritual; it worked.
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157900
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157810
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His lawyer, with looming, supermodel good looks, had a mild case of Tourette's. She would be talking to you and then there would be a little tic and her head would bob slightly to the left, and her eyes would go a little blank, and then this very strange
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157840
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That Loving Feeling
How do I love thee?
I love the bulge
of your breast
along the inside
of my upper arm
when you lie on top
kissing me
I love
feeling the movement
of your nipple
along the tender skin
there
It
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1578137
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That year, if you asked Al, was truly the best of times, the worst of times.
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1578159
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157820
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It is a dark and stormy night, naturally
We’re trying to get some sleep
at a Travelodge in Eureka
when I get up at 3 a.m. to write
“Hard motel pillow receives snoring from neighboring room”
O Thesaurus, we need another word
Maybe it sh
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157810
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I'm going up and down elevators all over the Financial District and I have no office.
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157876
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Perhaps nothing has never existed;/
perhaps something always has
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157885
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“Perhaps instead of a book I could write lists of words, in alphabetical order, an avalanche of isolated words which expresses the truth I still do not know” — Italo Calvino albumen before child grit secretlyshame august blood …
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157710
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What else, H, is there to say about heartbreak? What else could it be but our hands, cupped as if holding water against our chests, then broken into halves. Or the picture of this one, pretending to load a gun. Or this one, soaked in smoke—asking for
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157700
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I took up smoking just to show the world how easy it was to quit. It’s been five months now, and my wife is wondering why I haven’t yet.
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157763
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I'm not sure if this is breaking the rules of Fictionaut, but here's a trailer of a poetry tour of Europe I did earlier this year. We hope to break it down into webisodes soon enough to highlight the brilliant readings, brilliant local poets and such that you can find not…
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157700
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Some things you never forget, especially if they are repeated frequently. I cannot hear her voice saying those words, now, I have forgotten its timber, its pitch, but I remember the words.
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157712
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From a window, the young Pole Krzysztof Penderecki saw resistance fighters hanged by Nazis...
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157700
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If you wanted to retain the ownership of said works, then you should not have died.
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157741
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Once, during an argument, she had said, It’s like there’s another woman, except she doesn’t exist. Which sometimes it really did feel like, a betrayal, being thrown over for someone else. The muse.
She could have shot the muse.
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157700
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The words(worlds) have become abstracted through contempt?
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157774
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Somebody needs to call Frank. The pediatrician who fixes cars on the side.
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157640
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So ya think you’re a writer? First of all, shut up. No, seriously, the very first thing you need to do, this very instant, is to just shut your mouth and take a seat.
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1576107
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Hurried, hassling suit in front of me is being awful to the barista. So she refuses to serve him, turning away.
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157675
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Biscuits and gravy. I'm off today, I'm lazy.
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1576117
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“Everything is neon, “ I say.
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157686
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With small and fleshy hands/
I scratch at enigmatic stones,
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157600
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“Wait, so you’re Burt Lancaster? You’re not tall enough to be Burt Lancaster.” I popped a hand over my mouth. Wine as truth serum would do me no favors.
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