1688 6 3
|
I infuriate myself with this gift.
|
168833
|
It is another evening of ordinary sand. The moon worms, all mellow and white, glow shine over the laminated floor. Shay's bladder is full, and protesting with a thump of ache. Shay holds on nervously.Last time she pissed tiny silver fish that roiled in the froth of her…
|
168820
|
the smell of the small cedar chips burning in the fireplace
|
16881711
|
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.
|
168897
|
It's about dinner time. My neighborhood is in Sa-bur-bia. Driving my gold 2007 Malibu i pass Chick. She notices me and stares standing in front of her house. We were friends about ten years ago. Chick is still divorced. Tall skinny legs. Educated blu-ish eyes. Wet…
|
168841
|
When his brown eyes met the lapis colored stones representing hers, she leaned forward from her exalted position and whispered to him, “Save me.”
|
168822
|
“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.
|
1688119
|
Whenever you act as if you're one of themit makes perfectly sad sense tome; you are one of them; we're supposed to believe there areno shadows in that particular choice? When you areone of them, they say youfall asleep with a peaceful droopinglip to your smile. When…
|
168711
|
I used to love myselfin hidden burstsforbidden momentsof pleasure in my morning bedlater, I numbedmy senses and stumbled blindlyinto wild sensationsof releaseand called itecstasyintensity is a drugfear, grief, anger,as seductive as joy,makes the heart pump,the blood rush…
|
1687169
|
How a breeze feels evaporating sweat on neck and forearms.
|
168775
|
They politely urged him not to get too involved with his creations.
|
168753
|
And she tried to laugh, to justify her half evasion, to dismiss the memory of their vitriolic breakfast conversation.
|
16871410
|
The smart drivers know the signs/
and the back street ways around the wreck.
|
168742
|
Sparky took to me immediately. In some atavistic canine way he knew I was simpatico to a dog like him.
|
168710
|
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.
|
168711
|
“It felt like the space under my skin had been filled with desert sand. I did not open my eyes for my body was covered with the dust. A camel could have walked over me and not noticed. I needed to wipe my eyes before I could open them and my body was froz
|
168785
|
“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 …
|
168731
|
Every damned time we came back to Richland County, I told JuneBug to just do whatever she had to do but to leave me and Skeeter out of it. And every goddamned time, we ended up somewhere like this, the two sisters hook-armed and conspiratorial, and Skeete
|
1687156
|
As the other mammals go extinct,/
we can’t presume we are immune//
because of big brains and a history/
of belief in the control of nature.
|
168700
|
|
168722
|
There’s a crack in the cosmos,
and pink is leaking through.
There’s a crack in the cosmos,
fix the sink, the toilet leak.
There are many cracks in the cosmos,
numerous. This is how time escapes.
Good grief, they’re going to suck the cream
|
168774
|
Somebody needs to call Frank. The pediatrician who fixes cars on the side.
|
16861211
|
and watch the bird play and squirrel play/
and the twitching of cottontail noses
|
16861511
|
|
168695
|
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
|
168641
|
I am reintroducing myself.
|
16861412
|
Usually I’m the only guy in a roomful of women. Some of them are foxy, too.
|
168654
|
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
|
168653
|
The porous bear the anchorite’s vial
|
1686126
|
a little bitter for the better
|
