1607 0 1
|
She overcomes herself on the day of the spectacle, clown paint, unmoving amid a rumble of trains and screens, video logs and snapshots, live blogs from phones wet with lotion. This is Tokyo. Facial masks. Bare flaking paint in streams. Stardust.
|
1607 6 2
|
Chubby. Plump. Pudgy. Portly. Bulky. Buxom. Rotund. Ample. Hefty. Corpulent. Zaftig.
|
1607 6 5
|
Cézanne sags during a moment of paint. There is an umbrella in the room whose surface collects his thoughts. Outside, in the rain, the grass and garden smell strongly of spring. Fruit litters the table. Light through the window writhes in conversation with shape and…
|
1606 9 2
|
The bus heads west on Route 36, toward the next stop – Howell, New Jersey. After driving ten minutes, and after crossing the tracks, the bus gets a flat.
|
1606 0 0
|
I have never seen doubt on the face of a Roman general,' he said, ‘but when you looked at me and said “I know”…that was a certainty I'd never encontered. You have crossed the Acheron twice.'
|
1606 10 10
|
As if to ask if I'm okay, as if to ask aren't we the same two on this wet December morning as ever, as yesterday, a month ago even, she shoots me a look as I stand by the bed, then her sane mild brown eyes…
|
1606 5 1
|
His shirt, striped, fuzzy, is of fabric like velour and wreaks havoc with sunlight. His seat faces the aisle, I am sitting forward-faced across the aisle, we are on a half-full city bus, this afternoon.It is a funny shirt so I smile. I am not smiling because of…
|
1606 5 0
|
|
1606 7 4
|
There is a rock somewhere with the truth of the sky in it, the glitter of otherworldly charms that falsify the ugliness of the literal.
|
1606 2 0
|
The wind blows off the ocean soft and cool. I close my eyes in hopes to strengthen my sense of touch. A bit of sand wriggles through my teeth; crunchy and salty like spoiled oven-roasted peanuts. I imagine the air would smell like low tide if it wasn't constantly…
|
1606 0 0
|
Under the darkness of their new city. The heave and moan of structures as they breathed and pulsed. Under the darkness of this city, under the hum of their florescent bulbs and the tumbling rattle of motorcars, the wheeze of their machines and the clank o
|
1606 10 6
|
Her smile dazzled me from across the room.
|
1606 4 4
|
He keeps saying it,
babbles the term like he knows what it means
and we wince and interject with mama,
mama,
mama,
|
1606 0 0
|
Sora rubbed her neck as Azure gave her attention. She did not know where to begin, thinking about what to say first.
|
1606 17 16
|
saw the world was a mess
I did nothing about it, poured myself some apple juice
|
1606 6 5
|
The boy was sure of something,She was just the one. The girl was sure of nothing, Her life had just begun. For him, he'd found his partner, There was never any doubt. For her, he was fine for now, But there was more to learn about. He thought it was a perfect…
|
1606 2 1
|
He finished the omelet and started in on the short stack. He drowned the cakes in syrup.
-Never can have enough syrup.
|
1606 10 9
|
What grabbed the mind when you heard about it was the way he did it.
|
1605 8 7
|
a mere forty years/and maybe you become twelve,/maybe sixty-three.
|
1605 5 3
|
All I wanted to know was: Am I coming close? You could have given me a clue. How was I to know how deep the scar ran? I always thought scars were superficial, but I was young, and willing – what did I know?
What would they have done if they had come
|
1605 6 5
|
One of the poems in my collection, One Day Tells its Tale to Another, published December 16, 2012. Available on Amazon. My first book!
|
1605 8 4
|
(the vast preponderance of dark matter and dark energy discernible in these latter days begins to suggest just how dark the humor of existence is) . . .
|
1605 2 0
|
Summer nights in Boston, old cast iron streetlights.
|
1605 5 1
|
Two summers later, the ritual began. Carol left her house at midnight, having served her husband and daughter a heavy dinner that left them caged in their sleep. She was like a thief working in reverse: she rose from bed with her husband’s first snore,
|
1605 3 1
|
I’m secretly hoping for a huge bouquet, a fruit basket, a pickle jar of urine in a lunch bag on my doorstep, even.
|
1605 12 11
|
|
1604 1 1
|
Background
foreground
life in the middle
|
1604 3 0
|
But Jeffrey was flabbergasted and couldn’t explain to the officer why he was speeding. All he could manage to get out as an attack of Tourette syndrome hit were nasty, flamboyant obscenities. The Alabama state trooper wasn’t amused.
|
1604 5 4
|
Published writers will tell you that the most important thing you can do as a beginning writer is to know your markets! So this month, we'll talk about two of the markets open to you and your riveting but as yet unpublished prose -- Fling Magazine and Clubhouse…
|
1604 2 2
|
He does not read what he’s giving them permission to do to him, just signs the release.
|