1711 2 2
|
...you should pick a VERY OLD millionaire. Very old, and NOT VERY WELL...
|
171100
|
I'm subconsciously a sucker for guys who are no good for my
self-esteem. Or waistline.
|
171100
|
Still as the knife on the counter there still. Like mothballs in a chest. One with clear bags and newspaper clippings and your scarf inside it. The baby girl could put a mothball in her mouth and suck it like a penny. The way too close to a light bulb bur
|
171174
|
I break your flesh
and make music
on the harp of your bones.
|
171165
|
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…
|
171000
|
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.
|
1710172
|
You can tend to recognise the difference between a good and mediocre mind by observing how each reacts to a misfired original idea.The mediocre mind will praise the merely meretricious, but ignore the more interesting bad art. The higher mind will value the misfired…
|
171063
|
“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.
|
171045
|
The last time Cyrus rode in a train’s passenger car, he came home a dead man.
|
171031
|
The TV projects from an insect arm. It has the face of my ex-husband, smiling and void. I like to set small fires and inhale them.
|
1710198
|
A proper study of human history should
lead the student to an inescapable desire
to commit suicide
|
171020
|
From somewhere beneath the train, steam rose, which was—of course—puzzling as the train was powered by electricity. The steam condensed on the windows of the cars, making tears streak across the surface. Perhaps that was why the woman’s cheeks were shinin
|
1710104
|
Come, bring your sadness
to the precipice of my body,
bury it within me like a tool
|
171052
|
I’ve just moved to New York City and, somehow, Scarlett Johansson is at the same party I’m at.
|
170974
|
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.
|
1709105
|
He was instantly on her, pulling at her nightgown
|
170943
|
Shadows from a star
Never too close
Never too far
|
170900
|
"One-upmanship" is a strategy for defeating an opponent somewhat unfairly without actually cheating.
|
170930
|
white-gray mounds persist
|
17091413
|
|
170977
|
You've been given some really cruel thoughts that are not your own.You've been given some really stupid sets of rules which are impossibleto follow. You can learn to manage for yourself. Remember who youwere before they told you who you were. You've been trainedsince birth…
|
170866
|
some answers are enough to make you cry or laugh yourself to death
|
17081511
|
Poor, pocked Ceres- dwarf planet/
trapped among mere asteroids-
|
170810
|
When Mt. St. Helens erupted, I knew that was the end of Bigfoot.
|
170844
|
It was a dark and stormy night.
|
170843
|
Atlanta, 1990The night we almost died,crushed at a one-hit wonder concert,comes back to mewhen the club announces it's closing.An ancient excelsior millturned industrial dance hall,I spent three years mapping every dark corner, finding secret places for sex and…
|
170800
|
I met Barry Hannah once in my life. I’d come to Oxford, MS, to meet an entirely different writer whom I thought then and think now very highly of. I’d also come to escape from another slew of regrets. Oxford is a great city to run away to.
|
170821
|
She picked the fish out of the box leaving a pool of mucus and blood slowly congealing on the shelf and dripped it toward the kitchen table. Outside the wind lashed the tops of the poplar trees together and rain sprayed from the barn roof opposite.
|
17081716
|
saw the world was a mess
I did nothing about it, poured myself some apple juice
|
1708126
|
In the summer that my mother returned from wherever she had gone after her divorce, she and I moved to a large, old farmhouse high on a hill, far from the town where I had grown up. The farmhouse was over a hundred years old and no one had lived in it for…
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