1502 7 6
|
“Now we lay you in your grave
There was no way you could be saved
You hate our lord Jesus and he can tell
Which is why you will burn in hell.”
|
150282
|
Mom wraps a bulky-knit scarf around my face and over my mouth. She tightens it into a big knot in back of my collar.
|
150286
|
I haven’t read many of them, these poets
that they speak of – Whitman and his Leaves
Of Grass, Mary Oliver and her wild life
|
1502106
|
|
150266
|
The day came shyly up to me like a rolling orange thing. Perhaps of alien origin, but not if the Buddha of our foolish hopeless dreamer inside has anything to say about it. It said, pick me up. I did. It looked like forever on the inviting horizon with trees as…
|
150100
|
“Jesus Christ!” the man screams in pain, and a chorus of “Ewww” is heard from the girls' bench, where the severed body part has landed in a Yoplait strawberry yogurt.
|
150131
|
If this is trouble, please call someone else.
|
150111
|
Barbie wore only her clear pink heels...
|
1501278
|
She asked if I needed to be measured for size “to make sure they feel really good on you,” her lips all gloss and smile. I was nineteen and knew my size but changes in weight had caused fluctuations before so maybe I'd be different…
|
150132
|
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.
|
150140
|
"Dennis," she started "exactly what the fuck are you looking at?"
"Your tits" I replied.
|
1501126
|
Every morning, Wilma's husband Richard would cross the street and visit with a neighbor, always after the neighbor's husband left for work. Wilma was a loner, never bothered with neighbors. She enjoyed sitting on her patio in her lounge chair,…
|
150175
|
The Devil and the Holy Ghost played Euchre on Friday nights. The Devil drank rock and rye and the Holy Ghost went for Miller Lite. What just irks hell out of me, pardon my French, the Ghost began, is that nobody knows who the fuck I am.
|
1501118
|
He liked to take pictures of her, and she liked to pose. It made her horny, she said.
|
150043
|
Except for the bathroom stalls—you know the one that goes “Here I sit all broken-hearted”—the only poetry in the house is composed by Hazel, recited to her fawning sycophants.
|
150000
|
For the past 6 months our love for each other had been akin to a chess game. We avoided each other’s traps, fortified our defenses, set up gambits of our own, exchanged pieces of our lives, and now it was endgame. Checkmate. Time to move on.
|
150000
|
Her fever spreads through lines of a plaid mini, over burnt milk, darkened to yellow. Fingers explore fabric folds up and into the lost dimensions of logic.
|
15001411
|
I dream of benzene rings/
and polymer shrouds
|
150087
|
You are an heiress to drunks.
The statues of your forefathers stagger,
memorialized by gravity, their faces
half-lit eternally, as they reach into refrigerators
for another something
to keep away the cold empty.
|
150010
|
That night we went out to shoot some pool at the pool hall over on Durant Avenue, which was above a bar called Kip’s. Rotten Bobby walked in with his own damn pool cue, which came broken down in two pieces. He carried it in a narrow felt-lined carrying
|
150022
|
Past the pavilion, past the factory, past the underside of the bridge where the surfers jimmy their sloppy fingers over the oil barrels.
|
150001
|
Dear Butterfly, Are you there ? Wherever there is ? Are you there, crossing your feet on top of each other, sipping your coffee while observing the sky from behind those cat-eye glasses of yours ? 3 days, 8 months and 11 years. That's exactly how long since the last time…
|
150065
|
She stood there with her back to me and her dress around her ankles.
|
150033
|
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.
|
150042
|
It's 6:45 a.m. A gritty, mundane sort of magic pervades the air at "Valentine’s" in the Hamilton Hotel.
|
150000
|
The artist leans back in his chair, smoking a cigarette
after lunch, looking away from the table toward the right
He is dressed in white, and he's practically stretched out
his entire length, to relax after rowing the boat all
morning. Sunlight
|
150065
|
I wake up on the edge of the mattress, teetering. The dog is looking at me funny.
|
150042
|
I started walking around the Jube like any other sheep, lemming, or penguin: passing plate glass windows, one after another.
|
150055
|
The jewels were dragonflies, buzzing lazily, Beelzebub’s hair a golden meadow.
|
150096
|
|
