1597 6 3
|
A week ago, Lina had felt a pain crack over her right eyebrow. It was there every day, creeping from her ear to the middle of her forehead.
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159732
|
He took the car out into the middle of Nowhere, Mexico, and drove it at top speed, off-road for a day and a night. I am talking strut-breaking, axle-wrecking, wheel-bending, paint-peeling conditions and balls-to-the-wall, testosterone-drunk driving.
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1597167
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It's time, more than anything
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159700
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I had enough judgment, anger and vengefulness from the people around me in the steel town of Pueblo, Colorado, where I was growing up. I didn’t need more from my God.
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159762
|
Chubby. Plump. Pudgy. Portly. Bulky. Buxom. Rotund. Ample. Hefty. Corpulent. Zaftig.
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159740
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"As the thing lurches upright, I can see now that it is an old woman with snake eyes… a dead old woman with snake eyes and peeling flesh. She is putrid and maggoty. She is coming right at us. She is my mother."
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15971112
|
Regrets lined behind him like crossties on a railroad track.
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159676
|
The pristine Hudson's/waters dance in the dark of/the East River's rinse.
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159600
|
“A shibboleth is a test—a way to separate da wheat from da chaff that's as old as the Bible, but as new as the latest trend in men's fashions,” Gus says.
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159653
|
For reasons he couldn't fathom, his motorcycle only moved in reverse. He engaged the engine and lurched backward hard. He called a friend, a gear-head with perpetually dirty nails, asked him to look it over.
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159622
|
I look down at my free of clothing genitalia and curiously note that the testicles sprout from above my erect penis, and my scrotum is so taut, hard and shriveled as to conjure squished images of a gigantic pink peanut.
|
159644
|
Perseid meteors fly past their ship like cosmic fire-wasps.
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159632
|
Harold Smithe awoke that Tuesday morning precisely at 6 am. He did this every day for as long as he could remember. Even on the weekends when his schedule varied. Well, varied slightly. He lay in bed trying to wake up and mulled over the things he needed to accomplish for…
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159611
|
On an overcast and humid day in August, Jesus—with Dad’s permission, of course—decided to make his grand return.
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159696
|
He brought me kisses from New York.
|
159696
|
Everyone loves a story of love
unrequited.
But what about the stories
of the unrequited lovee?
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159552
|
This is Peter’s office. The room is small, and the wood paneling is painted white. Light colors, Peter has been told, make a room appear larger.
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159500
|
...the fatal bleeding-out of the love receptors. They call it “Juliet's Tears.”
|
15951711
|
Each little token is the world/
as you knew it at each time and place
|
159511
|
The crowd- which consisted of exclusively men with beards and djembe drums and women with hairly legs poking out of corduroy patchwork skirts- cowered and crawled in fear around the angry man-bomb, mortally frightened yet encouraged to shimmy because the
|
159556
|
It's tough when muscle gets in the way of memory. The way pain is the only thing I can remember about certain things. Fifth grade, that's what I think of. I think of pain. Not just abstract pain, not some we'll get to it later adolescent angst or ennui.…
|
159564
|
This Tippy’s name was Cheryl — something both of them were so far not committing to paper or saying. Unusual in a salesman, she thought. He is insincere and intends to sell her something.
|
159421
|
Naked Lady? I know that from somewhere. Then he remembered. That's what they called those old 1930's and 40's Conn saxophones, Naked Ladies. How would Smith know that?
|
159411
|
A procession of our somber youth—
stoned and stunned and
broken beyond repair—viewed
the boy carved of putty.
The mortician painted him
stuffed him, presented him
to us, the semi-living.
|
15941612
|
A little poem about prison
|
159474
|
He calls it an owl glass: he’s allowed: he’s six.
|
159463
|
“I mean it, Hanna. I don't want you to.” But his leg felt carved away where her head had lain. One stupid thing jostling another for attention. He was afraid that if she touched him again, he'd have her on the ground.
|
159444
|
I try to enjoy my bookbut the mannequins keep tapping at the windowWhen I look up they vanish Outsidefibreglass clouds are kept in placeby invisible wires——Sometimes the mannequins …
|
159498
|
It is true that the college dogs spread vermin, reeked and shat on the soccer field...
|
159477
|
The whole thing is broken. It's like an egg. I'm not saying this to get you to say something else in the sunny opposite direction of the tattooed scar upon my painted backyard scene. I don't really care. It's only on me. Not on you. I'm glad as…
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