1638 17 11
|
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.
|
163801
|
Well, just put your hand on my knee, alone in my room, perv, unasked-and-unflirted for, go get a date, you coward, you limp-dicked male bitch . . .
|
163833
|
It is only seven-thirty but the night is full, gloom seizing Highway 66. There is a carcass on the road, maybe a human, slumped next to an empty ice cream truck. Several stars hang up in the East, drunken constellations scrambling to find meaning.
|
1638106
|
They couldn’t have done it better if they’d waved guns around in the air.
|
1638158
|
What's that snitch doin' here?
|
163853
|
The porous bear the anchorite’s vial
|
163841
|
Rye goods
* Cracker brot: best practices
* Recipes: never embellish!
* Boughten: what to avoid
|
163821
|
She rolls up at school with the word MAYHEM marker-penned across her stomach, wrote so big the first and last letters graze each inner thigh bone. She says it's in honour of some rock star I never knew.
|
163820
|
“Little Pig, Little Pig, Let me in.” One of them yelled out from behind the door. The wolves always loved to taunt him, itched for any chance they could get to fight.
|
1638126
|
|
163877
|
My skin tells a story of pain and labor. It’s better than a tattoo and cheaper.
|
16371614
|
Dinner conversation reminds me of the chatter of birds. Happy talk. Nothing real.
|
163766
|
Devoid of flesh and muscle,
Composed of bone and air.
|
16371511
|
|
163756
|
Just like D-Ray White’s tapping still bounces off the mountains if the right person is listening, Hasil’s hoots and howls are trapped in record wax like a blood-drunk mosquito in amber.
|
163720
|
No matter how you do it, forgetting something doesn’t mean as much once you’ve forgotten.
|
163710
|
While the tea was steeping, Ms. Darcy unwrapped the package. The book was lovely. It had nice heavy paper and the print was a good size for reading. The cover was glossy and not too showy, and Ms. Darcy thought it would look just right on her shelf.
|
163710
|
I'm going up and down elevators all over the Financial District and I have no office.
|
163772
|
She had liked her new husband's sternness, and the way he ran his hands over her body, noticed every inch of it, made her feel not invisible.He traveled during the week, wore cufflinks, worked out in hotel gyms. On the weekends, they redecorated her house and tried to…
|
163700
|
If they don’t cover consequences in your gifted and talented program, you may care to research it.
|
163773
|
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…
|
163785
|
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
|
16371512
|
Soon enough, October’s ragged/
lawn will hide its deficiencies//
under withered leaves of oak,
|
163711
|
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.
|
163721
|
Sometimes it waited after dark, when everyone was asleep, and moved in slowly like a thief, working its way into all the ruwas, up everyone's nostrils, seemingly intent on making the people's mountain existence a troublesome one
|
1637117
|
No bustling inside
No extruded amber
Wings onyx straight jackets
A low hum of displeasure.
|
163655
|
You will never know how much it hurts
When someone else touches your face.
But I also know how much you count on others
To pull the slivers out of your heart.
|
163622
|
an awkward stage between
glued popsicle stick marsupial,
and mechanical tin foil mammal.
|
163695
|
Now that I am dead, my god will fight your god...
|
163654
|
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
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