1720 1 0
|
The old man’s face is worn and tired, his nose and cheeks tinted red over his pale black skin from the frosty January winds blustering through town. He looks more than half frozen, which I don’t find surprising.
|
1720 13 12
|
Myrna came home from her new, midnight shift, waitressing job at the Waffle House saying she was sorry but she couldn't take any more gray-haired Jesus-types with their dollar bills held high, releasing a few so they would flutter, as if borne by wings, onto the tables as…
|
1720 17 17
|
I was out of my element. I was on property that wasn't mine. In a woods with mansions tucked away among the trees.
|
1720 0 0
|
Ireland - her beauty is like a drug.
|
1720 9 6
|
|
1720 7 0
|
I am a scavenger. I sit on the telephone wire, a ravenous vulture watching a man and a woman arguing across the street. The clouds remind me of ashy marshmallows I found in a fire pit yesterday. The woman starts violently shoving the man; he stumbles…
|
1719 9 9
|
People usually take fonts for granted.
|
1719 9 1
|
for paul celan take it like an amulet a jewel like a tulip filling up the expanse of green the volatile view from within your thin wrist you write into manuscript for the hand is a map with but grasping still it is but a like two palms like a…
|
1719 9 6
|
Soon everyone will know what is coming.You cast a spell of heaviness and I crumple, horizontal. Like Aurora, sleep is my destiny.Tantalus in reverse, my curse from food forever I will flee, while everything changes;discomfort and…
|
1719 6 5
|
52. they hate the word hate
|
1719 4 1
|
"What does it say about our political process when I could pick students at random out of any of my classes who would do better than the actual candidates. That scares me. What’s happening to people? How did we get here?”
|
1719 5 1
|
I'd have gone even if I got F's for the entire two weeks. The homeless would have homes, the sick, medicine; the hungry would eat. They could not wait for the generosity of Kurban Bayramı. Now was the hour of relief. The children's eyes. Lambs whose bl
|
1719 6 3
|
I had the smallest taste. Liquid heat, gifted from lips. One long moment spent lost in her warmth. Fleeting. I should have drunk more. Would she have relented to one more sip? One final taste? “Be careful,” she…
|
1719 4 2
|
“I wrote a story about you today.”
|
1719 4 4
|
“We don’t need to kiss.” I say coyly, morphing the angles of my body to look cute, irresistible. It would be easier if I’d brushed my hair. “Pretend I’m a prostitute.” I instruct, ”They don’t kiss their clients.” It’s a reference I’ve made before, but not
|
1718 11 12
|
The shop is swarming with little women.
|
1718 24 11
|
|
1718 8 6
|
You lazy fuckwit! You half-assed shithead!
|
1718 6 6
|
Devoid of flesh and muscle,
Composed of bone and air.
|
1718 11 5
|
I enjoyed the talking part though
rambling on and on for lord knows
why or how
|
1718 7 1
|
They were pressing her about the money, it was always about the money.
|
1718 11 5
|
An anorexic middle-aged woman walked up and watched me..
|
1718 14 8
|
...painted by my mother with meticulous attention...
|
1718 14 7
|
|
1718 15 9
|
|
1718 3 2
|
“Emerald Leaf Borers, Dutch Elm Disease and Gypsy Moths blow through here like the Plagues of Egypt,” said Rafe, sipping from his glass of Parallel 44 wine. “You'd think we'd get more than a few days of good weather for all the parasites we feed.” …
|
1718 4 3
|
"this is the year I'm going to plant a yucca tree in the garden."
|
1718 2 0
|
Joseph K. ran a publishing house in the shadow of the Castle.
Perhaps “publishing house” is too grand a title. Joseph K. kept a battery of six or seven (depending on repairs) manual typewriters, a crate of carbon paper, and a large stapling machine
|
1718 9 6
|
The artist glides through an art supply store looking for a color within. She can feel the color, but she can't name it. She can almost see it, but it's not that kind of color. It's not like, say, blue or red, a primary color that animates flags or exotic ceremonies.…
|
1718 1 0
|
Shh!
What?
The downstairs neighbors. They’re at it again.
What?
It’s the weekend? They’re both home?
Oh.
Remember?
I think so. Sort of.
Shh!
What’s that grunting?
He must be doing the heavy lifting.
Sounds like he’s hurt
|