1607 11 6
|
You treat them like I’m hungry.
Fix it.
|
160732
|
The frog was splayed after its operation in the science lab, but not forsaken. He knew that his wife still loved him, even though he was in an advanced state of dissection. “Oooooo, Mdntf, let's hide under the table and touch tongues,”
|
1607156
|
Now his daughter was an American citizen and Max wanted only the chance to board the SS Maua and disembark in New York.
|
16071610
|
There will always be some
who misread the dance
|
160711
|
I like him. I really, really like him in a way that I don’t like guys, not anymore, not after all the dirty lies into get in my pants, the dirtier lies to get out of them later, the indignities and the humiliations and the disappointments.
|
160700
|
Late spring, summer before cancer. Frank drove Max and his pal Jason to Cincinnati for their first rock show. Less Than Jake at Bogart's. A two-hour drive for ska-punk.
|
160699
|
People usually take fonts for granted.
|
160655
|
From nine at night until five in the morningthe mannequins staff the Dream Shop.Customers sleepwalk in and murmur their enquiries.Some of the patrons are very demanding.They queue outside before opening…
|
160644
|
The figure eight will fall on its side. Become infinity.
|
160621
|
Justin comes out of the bathroom, finally erect, his hands glistening with K-Y jelly as he chucks the girlie mag into a corner. “I'm ready.” Through the afternoon's soft-filtered light, Kelly watches him climb on top of her and thinks of…
|
16061410
|
The smart drivers know the signs/
and the back street ways around the wreck.
|
160622
|
Over the river and through the woods to grandmother's house they went, Will and his new girlfriend Emma from Atlanta for the annual family dinner and drunken disaster in Allendale.
|
1606139
|
Stalks were scythed to submission one stroke at a time
|
160698
|
Where the General is, the world is data and patterns and signatures.
|
160610
|
They hovered and darted but, after a while, they seemed to be always around him. Lapping at him like the mellow waves that stroked the muddy bank.
|
160633
|
eleven o'clock spills
despair all over
our bedspread
|
160685
|
“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 …
|
160611
|
The last row of furniture is all black leather. In unison the tigers hop onto a couch a piece, sit calmly on their haunches, and reach for remote controls buried in the cushions. Roaring, they paw at the remotes.
|
160644
|
“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
|
160600
|
For you –
because you deserve more effort
|
160689
|
They coo and gurgle in the warmth of twig and down. They are so delicate, hard to look at without thinking of death. I tell them I want for them chief among all things strength, speed, resilience.
|
160564
|
I am the boy with the olive skin who takes pictures of lewd sex acts performed by nobodies on stage at the Rock Creek Lodge Testicle Festival in Missoula, Montana.
|
160510
|
“Well” I say. “What do you think about the dilemma of a guy who’s tortured by a history of incest and bondage?”
“Depends” Says Al. “On who was cested and who was bonded.
|
160574
|
God damn you women get me all /
twisted up thinking oohrahrah and lala
|
16051711
|
When he got out of sick bay, they moved him into a room with three other alkies. A kid, a tree trimmer, and a Catholic priest.
|
1605128
|
He said his wife levitated.
|
160511
|
Then a flicker caught my eye. To the left of the balcony, where the residential high-rise abutted a commercial building to its right, a shape--half-dark, half-lit--stood on a limestone ledge.
|
160553
|
The porous bear the anchorite’s vial
|
1605166
|
Warning: contains sexually suggestive comments.
|
160575
|
Perhaps you have heard the rumors of big money in poetry
Maybe that’s why everybody is writing it these days
Even Emily Dickinson must have heard these rumors
Myself, I suspected as much 50 years ago
And started early to accumulate my hoard of poe
|
