1538 8 5
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When the medicine started to interrupt her sleep, she made elaborate breakfasts – sweet potato pancakes, crepes with homemade cream cheese filling, omelets with spinach and brie, hand-rolled croissants stuffed with bittersweet chocolate. It was in those e
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153820
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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,
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153765
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You load the pipe and suck in the fireworks. Whistling missiles, slithering sparks, shivering teases, dripping embers. You fall asleep with flashing neon outside and the Fourth of July in your veins. When you wake up, your room is the saddest place o
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153731
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Writer Marion Winik has ridiculously bad taste in men. She's an intelligent woman and a terrific writer, a good mom with a good heart, and ALL of her romantic relationships are train wrecks.Winik recounts her quest for love at age 50 in her new book, “Highs In The Low…
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153700
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Alysia raised the staff over the huddle and together everyone created a barrier. The wind blew past them and the grey mist surrounded them.
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15371210
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of placing the rope just so; of settling
the veil with care --
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153721
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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…
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153720
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I know you,
ladies and gentlemen
We see the near future
through you
Your factual face
as you sit indoors
Youthless
In your ordinary chair
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15371412
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She was sick and tired of marriage. She didn't want to be a mother, but now she was.
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153763
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I love going fast. The last bank I robbed didn't know what hit them.
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153721
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Odd bookends
stuck in familiar territory,
we have become lethargic
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153786
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My ex-girlfriends live in a pastel-drenched cabin on the edge of a hemlock forest in Canada somewhere,
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153623
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My husband waits for him to hurt himself.
The boy drinks red wine between movements,
Staring hypnotically at the back
Of a girl’s head.
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153676
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They broke both of Jimmy's shins. / Gambling debt just like in the movies
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153655
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In my seriousness I am not making the case that none of “this” (our contemporaneity, our historical moment) “matters”.
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153630
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“Jerome always came to play with ideas. It was like he was already thinking about it before we started. I loved his ideas. It caused me to think about it as well. We did variations on a theme and there was always a goal. Sometimes it was to grow and deliv
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1536139
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Stalks were scythed to submission one stroke at a time
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153673
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In every writer's room there is a bogeyman born in the closet, growing with every blot on the virgin sheet, feeding on the pain of writing, of solitude, the failure, the rage, the confusion, the helplessness, the fear, the humiliation. The narrower the…
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15361111
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Vera Wang I saw you on Oprah today girl. Oh no no no.
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153689
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I’m deathly afraid of the pub crawls
of my ancestors, through Bohemia and Fitzrovia
because of the ghosts of alcohol already
etched inside my veins
and the headlong loss of oxygen
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153677
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My skin tells a story of pain and labor. It’s better than a tattoo and cheaper.
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153520
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Enid closes her bedroom door when she changes her clothes but leaves it ajar when she's doing her face; is she hoping some small talk might reach her dainty ears?
|
153500
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Deyrolle, established by the granddaughter of Jean–Babtiste Deyrolle, to house his scientific debris became a Paris fixture. A museum masquerading as a store and when casually mentioned in HG or when it was discovered that David Sedaris was an aficionado
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153587
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153544
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It was like watching one of those vintage eighteen-frames-per-second films of someone trying to open a stuck umbrella.
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153555
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She called it EMDR, which stands for Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing. Basically, it means training a part of your brain to longer associate trauma with a specific side of the brain. This meant that she had to direct all traffic of the repressed memory to a new…
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1535117
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... he led what might be called a quiet life
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153533
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eleven o'clock spills
despair all over
our bedspread
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153520
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Summer nights in Boston, old cast iron streetlights.
|
1535104
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A Parody of Keats I stood at silent thought upon a clump Of nettles, swaying in the od'rous air- That blew from my own trousers, by the dump; That it had not blown more lent me despair. The dulcet horn gave melody, rare…
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