1684 6 3
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There’s an unending parade of drifters, outlaws and crazies and I always have to watch my back, but, then again, that’s nothing new.
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16841717
|
Something about shadows and last time and driving.
|
168443
|
Prabo was late.
It wasn’t like him, I thought, sitting on the steps of the Galle Face Hotel, the Indian Ocean pounding the beach abutting the nearby Galle Face Green and spraying fine mist everywhere. Or at least it didn’t seem like him.
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1684139
|
I don’t remember much about kindergarten.... The teacher’s name was Mrs. Halverson. She was nice.
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168498
|
It is true that the college dogs spread vermin, reeked and shat on the soccer field...
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168400
|
O' madam, betwixt the pages A story professed to love A wonder of descriptive prose Delights read enraptured “My favorite book”, so you said O' madam, your heroine is flawed Wounding herself beyond measure And those she swears she…
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168410
|
I’m lying on the floor curled up in the foetal position and about six people are stamping on me. [...] It’s really confusing down here, what with all the kicking.
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168400
|
As airplanes fly low over her children playing in the kiddie pool on the front lawn, Maureen learns something else about her father's new house that lies in the flight path of an international airport.
|
168400
|
In the grip of a bad dream, she bolted awake, thinking she had heard the nightsounds of a tomcat crawling around her property.
It was some dreaded hour before dawn; she had no idea when. Her small, frail body was stiff, her breasts swollen and sore to
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1684117
|
Lucky for mama, he doesn't like for his women to work.
|
168396
|
|
168364
|
Luke was in the gutter, his face in stagnant water littered with cigarette butts, condom wrappers, and green shards of glass from broken beer bottles. A man was kicking him in the face with a boot the size of a U-boat, over and over and over again. Blood
|
16831612
|
A little poem about prison
|
168300
|
Scott was sure his father was reassured by the sticky stains in his Penthouse; Dad found them when Scott was thirteen. Dad had just one issue of that venerable porno, which Scott defiled with his joy. It was not the Penthouse models…
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168365
|
LECTURES A Bra Burning When Freud painted “Envy,” the women collapsed, holding fans to their faces. Hot that year, they retired to the Tyrols. 50 Days of Palindromes Although Thiebaud painted cakes like women,…
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1683116
|
Even in the fading light, it looked big enough to disembowel a man.
|
168391
|
Literary agents, also editors,
But most assuredly not my creditors,
Someday they won’t mean jack to me—
The people who won’t get back to me.
|
168363
|
The poet said, ‘I feel the fell of dark, not day.” but day it always is. Bright! Bright!
the city claims its blue salutes; its stopping in mid-sentence at a name where fingers roam a stone.
|
168300
|
Locked at the highest rung
Unable to budge at all
|
16832112
|
It chases other newborns down and eats them.
|
1683118
|
Me and Dale chuck rocks at it.
|
16831212
|
I picked out a book to read on the airplane. The title was The Function of the Orgasm by Wilhelm Reich.
|
168321
|
Bake sweet rolls and make love to your new wife, fall asleep for three years and grow a beard.
|
168353
|
Maybe you, citizen, should be a jerk. Jerks get where they are going. You, citizen, what about you? Handy, dandy, where’s the jerk? Conformists. Sheep. All of you, all of us, boiling out our radiators. Spending our day, our days, our lives in coope
|
168211
|
Once upon a time in the days of old
There lived a poor tailor who- I am told-
Did brag that his daughter
Spun straw into gold!
|
168200
|
The tiger-eye beads around her neck would wink at me like a nervous uncle sharing a secret with a child. They roll on her sternum like marbles. At night, on her nightstand, they whisper my secret to the patchouli-scented room. How long have they known?
|
168262
|
Two women sat at a small round table near the sidewalk waiting for the same man.
|
168242
|
There is nothing literal about the color of strawberries. It is a beauty too celestial for this world. It can only be imagined.
|
168243
|
Don't throw earth on bones.
|
168243
|
I can hear the echoes clearly. They are distinct and crisp, almost as though they're all on exact trajectories to me from their final bounce, without any interference. Each sound, while unintelligible, seems to fit perfectly and expectantly into my ears
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