1614 13 4
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Jane says to Roy, “What are you doing, Roy?”“Fuck off, Jane, I'm reading,” says Roy.“Well you could have just said so.”“I did.”“I mean just without—”“Yeah, well fuck off anyway.”“I've had…
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161400
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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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161431
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I went to a drum circle next night under the full moon in May, scotch broom and lilacs blooming. One does not inhale such aphrodisiacs without losing one’s balance. There were children of druids and pagans and stregas from lands over the sea, lands beyo
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161422
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...you should pick a VERY OLD millionaire. Very old, and NOT VERY WELL...
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161463
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“I'm thinking about math class,” she said. “The solution to three factorial.”
“Easy,” Leo said.
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161489
|
I’m deathly afraid of the pub crawls
of my ancestors, through Bohemia and Fitzrovia
because of the ghosts of alcohol already
etched inside my veins
and the headlong loss of oxygen
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161486
|
Our afterlife depends upon//
what interesting shape
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161300
|
Mayumi could see as far as her eyes could, all the buildings hugged by the trees. Roads stretching outward as if reaching for something far away.
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161311
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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.
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161376
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The pristine Hudson's/waters dance in the dark of/the East River's rinse.
|
16131911
|
Girl with glasses and
skinny fingers
playing with wires
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161385
|
It was by the well on one cold early spring morning
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161365
|
The clarinet and the accordion are brothers, I see. Big, fat men with curly, klezmer hair.
|
161343
|
Shadows from a star
Never too close
Never too far
|
161363
|
Let’s say you know so little about me. Like whose idea of a joke to name me Hideo for excellent male. Or why I hang out at triangle Park, ogling expatriates or crusty punks.
|
16132011
|
The nearsighted world/
puts on its lenses
|
161397
|
a girl with wolves, dogs and a bear
|
16122112
|
We lie sleepless at night, enraged,/
and finger the keyboard
|
161263
|
“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.
|
161264
|
Zinvushka Zokolovskaya and I first met at the local botanical garden.
|
161212
|
“Choices overwhelmed us,” Thomas continued, years later, “like waves crashing.”
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161266
|
israeli flares light gaza/ casting incandescent nudity/ upon jumbled puzzle piece buildings.
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161255
|
Vibrations of a cavern a mile beneath silver willows.At two in the morning beyond the Sheratona lumination of pollution intercedes realism.Cardinals and doves develop their melodyprogressively caught in beat/heart echoes,as with spelunker canaries fluting noxious gasa small…
|
161200
|
Rosea plays a bohemian plainsong for the cosmonauts among us, while her fuzzy apple hips spit glitter, spin strobes: pink shades of pantyline flicker; lip-licked neon hues scrape strings in B sharp, a gloomy clue.
|
161242
|
THE man in the tent with the stick points to the chart on the wall and says to us all: the stats point to the end of the war by the end of the fall. A just war, not just oil. Just then Allah's shadow comes over the scene. He's here to stiffen his troops with some …
|
161251
|
I want you closeI want to feel youinside me,softening me untilmy borders are blurredand I'm hardly breathing,my heart swellingso big itbrings me to my knees,I want to know thepain of losing youeach time youclose your eyes andgo to sleep anddream of someone else,I want to…
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161211
|
On an overcast and humid day in August, Jesus—with Dad’s permission, of course—decided to make his grand return.
|
161230
|
Chapter one I was sitting in the doctor's office. For weeks, my nerves had been on edge, and I had been feeling like he was going to have a nervous breakdown. I needed the help of a professional. It was hard for me to admit this. I was taught that a man handled…
|
161144
|
Moore doubted, perhaps, that readers could sympathize with a man who had killed someone for a cause or a girlfriend who forgave him. Perhaps she felt that maiming is (not) worse than murder. Perhaps she decided that the story should be about that.
|
161100
|
“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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