1618 1 0
|
“It is not your shoes the Americans complained about!” Roberto yelled, sitting behind his desk, cigar smoke curling around his purple face. “It is your UNDERWEAR!”
|
16181610
|
A figure left the building.
|
1618177
|
a song jolts my memory . . .
|
161855
|
awoke in confusion, fear and hurt never seen before that day a year past
|
161866
|
some days are
minotaur shit on your tongue/
smokestacks dumping acid rain on your already thinning hair
your eyelashes pinned in upside down, backward/you give wrong shaving directions to the mirror
|
161822
|
He just had to tell somebody. Anybody.
So he called up his publisher, L., who agreed to meet him at Oliveira’s for a drink. It only took about ten minutes to walk there from his big duplex in the Elmwood, where he was still living with his wife among
|
16182012
|
The eyes, luminous and large-
each an infinite bright blue ocean
Wind ruffles feathers
My ego and vanity also/
encourage me not to wear a mask.
An aberration/
that general circumstances/
will remedy, and soon.
|
161822
|
He began life as we all do, an almost indeterminate blob. Ultrasound sonar plotting his outline on screen. The echo chambers of his beating heart dispelling the ectoplasmic impression of mere ghostly existence. His rudimentary …
|
1618136
|
|
161801
|
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.
|
161832
|
Hope was beauty before I even knew what beauty was with her golden pigtails, brilliant blue eyes and an infectious smile — even after Jamie Delano flung his Frisbee, knocking out Hope’s two front teeth.
|
161800
|
Only early June, but the heat feels like August. Eleanor and Shelby sit on the front steps of the old Victorian-style house in downtown Los Angeles, drinking homemade margaritas and watching the daylight drain away to dusk. Shelby slaps a mosquito away fr
|
161711
|
Surrounded by a stressfull sense of trying to understand the human condition. The flawed characters in the story speak of past violence and conflict. It is about a boy who is dealing with a recent suicide attempt on his own life & the regrets that come wi
|
1617115
|
If I felt like reading a book
then I would read a book
|
161700
|
I figure maybe I’m mostly alone; they are all running down staircases or falling down fire escapes, some of them naked, some of them with towels, mostly probably naked though.
|
161700
|
“There goes that slut Kerri Stanton,” the immense woman behind the counter chuckled to her patron. “Who the hell does she think she is?”
|
161700
|
Alysia tried to focus on what was important, but it was too much to bear. She was ready to dive down when a shot of wind blew past her, causing her and Megumi to lose control over their gliders.
|
161777
|
We are/no more than heartbeats on repeat.
|
161776
|
“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.”
|
161752
|
“You done done sumpin’,” the old man guessed, “Sumpin’ bad...”
|
161700
|
"One-upmanship" is a strategy for defeating an opponent somewhat unfairly without actually cheating.
|
161720
|
Summer nights in Boston, old cast iron streetlights.
|
1617118
|
He liked to take pictures of her, and she liked to pose. It made her horny, she said.
|
161740
|
“Well, aren’t you the cutest thing?”
Shelly looked around for the source of the line and one of the better looking bar flies met her gaze. He wore a faded t-shirt with a swoosh graphic that read ‘Just Do Me‘. True to its mystical nature, her indefatigabl
|
161785
|
collars of obedience /
discarded in the pyre /
with draft cards and bras
|
161688
|
It is the first day of summer, a blue-green afternoon, and we sit beneath the English oak, Quercus robur. Everything has at least two names. It is the first day of summer, or the last day of something else.
|
161643
|
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.
|
1616147
|
like the dome of an immense lamp
like blades of grass at the sweep of the scythe
like a line of cliffs against a tempestuous tide
|
1616106
|
Her smile dazzled me from across the room.
|
161622
|
He was just walking along, making sure that no white, Hispanic, Native American or Asian people were doing anything illegal when he noticed the young black man walking down the street.
He hadn't meant to.
|
