1182 8 6
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I wrote her a poem.She said, “I hate poetry.” I said, “OK, just read the words then."
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118242
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Why do men become explorers? he asked. Because they want to cannibalize the unknown; to leave the chemicals, the furniture (and, yes, the shrew) behind; to make their way hi ho into the brush, whose weeds and lianas remain empty of the exhortations of Jesus Christ, whose…
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118253
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Most times a vertical word balloon floats before him.
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118254
|
Max is the color of burnt caramelized sugar
the sweet crust that decorates our bright enameled pots.
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118222
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What becomes the identity of a woman who has been denied all her rights and thrown into a mental institution?
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118295
|
The instant you remember
gratitude
with enough focus to spring free its power...
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118289
|
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118295
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Beneath the rise and murmur of your voicethere lies a hush more rapid than the silence meets within your eyes; the ghosts of cloudfall also meet them there. Your tongue has murmurs more than I can hear just now, for here my ears are met with something…
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118211
|
He introduced himself as Jimmy Stamps and shook my hand with the confidence of a man who is Microsoft Windows certified. Reeking of vodka and Swisher Sweets he proceeded to expatiate on the virtues of X
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118200
|
Frowning, loosening a purple tie, Tony pushed through the golden revolving doors of a skyscraper. He drifted into the crowded midtown street as if in a daze. He was roused to his senses as his cell phone sent out the melody of his wedding song.
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11811613
|
One sneaker in the middle of the A-Plus Pawn lot...
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118102
|
When Mavis is satisfied that her new man and I have met her criteria, and at long last she goes, no one will stand between me and the relentless boredom of my own company.
|
118155
|
They were everywhere walking right above us or so it seemed, back and forth, back and forth with their lousy, crunching heels making hollow chewed up noises that took all the sweet sounds left on earth and had them march along…
|
118100
|
“Wait, so you’re Burt Lancaster? You’re not tall enough to be Burt Lancaster.” I popped a hand over my mouth. Wine as truth serum would do me no favors.
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118132
|
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,”
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118177
|
I wondered if Mr. Slane even knew/
how many dogs he owned
|
118121
|
She also castrated her cat. All by herself...with her Swiss Army Knife. And not with the blade either.
|
118151
|
And suddenly, I have this crazy impulse, so crazy and so puzzling I do not possess enough vocabulary and grammar skills to describe what is invisible and what is visible about it. The reader must excuse me and be attentive.
|
118120
|
She’s right there in Thirsty’s. In her usual spot. Drinking her usual drink. Yuengling on tap. One after another.
And he’s there too. Behind the bar. Pouring drinks. One after another.
Sometimes they speak. But mostly she orders. He pours. And
|
118121
|
The car has been parked there for slightly more than a day now, and nothing has occurred—there’s nothing “unusual,” nothing “amiss.” Except that it’s there, still, as he follows his boys to school.
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1181102
|
And I don't know how long it will be until she comes outside and figures it all out.
Figures me out.
|
118163
|
Whenever trees or limbs fell in isolate forests—well, no narrators were ever to be found, not even beneath the larger tree trunks or under the fallen limbs.
|
11812113
|
The virtuoso tortures a violin/
in homage to Paganini.
|
118163
|
SapphicsSlumber comes too late to scare awakening; I know, before, there was a life to bind me. I cross the streets instead and watch the rainfall Murmur without ears. It can know no sound but seems…
|
118011
|
Then he took the tune out to Ben Clarone land. The horn was beautiful, if leaky. His fingers flew over the keys.
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118020
|
When Elvis died, I felt so empty that I headed straight for Jimmy Choo's, but quietly, with the half-veil of my pillbox hat draped low over my face. I didn't want to draw attention to my vintage Dior mourning outfit, since I normally wear pants, even here. The voices…
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118060
|
The surface temperature of the sun is 9,800 degrees Fahrenheit.
|
118087
|
The blues were born on the ghost train that rolled through the Delta and gave Memphis breath back in 1902. It's low moaning sound brought young black men running, dogs hot in pursuit, toward glory that danced in a moonlight…
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118062
|
We cannot cross the river until it freezes. Bekker predicts January. For food we gather leaves, berries and roots from the thick forest behind the cabin. Suarez boils what we find into a revolting paste that we spoon into our mouths with dirty fingers.
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118055
|
On the coldest day of the year, the weather man walks back from the measurement booth across a snowed-over plain, solid as cement and tinted with the pale yellow glow of the northern lights.
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