1699 8 5
|
Remember when I entered a room and turned heads
is my youthful charm a sputtering fire in the hearth
|
1699121
|
. . . hot sand and quiet ocean only.
|
169900
|
Rosey streaks through the city, dragging a flooded umbrella.
|
169922
|
“What the hell, bitch?”
The words rolled out of my aching jaw. I twisted my legs around, kicking Lila out of the bed. She screamed, crashing to the floor. All I heard was barking. I threw a pillow at her.
|
169943
|
I fear osiris with his feather rising to meet the raven in mid-air they will turn to look at me decide if I go through the door of no return into fierce landscape on my knees I will crumple into the foetal…
|
169952
|
I am getting twisted like a cruller into the mess I have made of this morning and I am stretching the meaning of morning to way past its boundaries.
|
16991510
|
when the mirror cracks
my eyes won't cry
it's a perfectly
respectable (romance)
between her and i
|
1699118
|
I was sleeping the night of a hurricane party. I awoke to lightning flashes. They lit the undersides of descending clouds, and lit the shadows of scattering dancers. The hurricane must have turned inland.
|
169922
|
I am heading to work. It's early and Clare is still asleep. When I hit the breezeway I realize that I forgot my keys. I walk back into the house and start rustling through the junk on the table by the door. After a moment I sense someone standing behind me and…
|
16991912
|
I was to limp with stunned, growing horror, as I navigated through the swirling smoke and maze of human corpses...
|
169833
|
“I honestly can't believe how much you eat, honey.”, Lenora said as I put down the fork after gorging myself on breakfast. Twelve pancakes, four eggs, two cups of coffee, a glass of milk, and half a pound of bacon had passed through my lips this morning. …
|
169863
|
I infuriate myself with this gift.
|
16984128
|
She pulled into the doorway. Uncertain where to spend the night. Certain there'd once been a place with food. Here. This place. She remembered. Curtains. Small tables. Coffee cups thick-handled and sturdy. Crockery.
Some words came back.
|
169895
|
To make your own, obtain a book with blank pages. Collect materials; postcards, photographs, magazines. Make rules to determine what you do with them. Write things down. Make other rules to determine whether you write in the book or on pieces of paper
|
16981711
|
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.
|
169831
|
I suggested a threesome for her birthday. In jest, I thought. But here we are; me in my checkered Oxford, Katie in her red silk blouse, as planned. We're at this sushi place at the corner of 9th and Bentham. “Zuma.” I hate this restaurant, to tell you the…
|
169811
|
Puddles—not his real name, as you’ve probably gathered, but the kind of nickname a fat kid got tagged with in our neighborhood—kept stopping short, picking underwear out of his ass or taking a breather. This had the unfortunate byproduct of my crashing in
|
169841
|
I am reintroducing myself.
|
169854
|
Time has wings. They are bright and beautiful, like those of a butterfly. They are delicate wings, and they carry the years away from my decaying mind. I would break those wings if I could, for tomorrow I turn seventy-three, and I grow weary of their ince
|
169820
|
My sister Janis called me from Berlin and said to turn on the news. You could see the thick flurries of snow that were falling there and the flat feathers of peoples' breaths issuing from their mouths as they took turns swinging pick-axes, standing on top
|
169820
|
Benton showed her his old room, a shrine of old posters and records. But it had been cleaned out, made to look like a guest room. “Kiss me,” Benton said. “April.” “That was just a name, so don't get any…
|
169810
|
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.
|
169885
|
“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 …
|
169820
|
The heart of those stars is a dab of yellow light.
The darkness of the blue night appears so deep
because the downward strokes of the actual sky
are interspersed with a violet that’s almost black,
|
169800
|
Home is where my parents live and my relatives visit.
|
169822
|
“You own your own burial plot, but you don't own your home,” he'd said, and I couldn't help but agree.
|
16971211
|
and watch the bird play and squirrel play/
and the twitching of cottontail noses
|
169720
|
the smell of the small cedar chips burning in the fireplace
|
1697105
|
how alike, breakup & death
|
169721
|
The logic of the impoverished was amazing. Like Rita telling me I owed her fifty cents for a token after she stole five million yen from me.
|
