1705 4 2
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A is a hole in the series of letters, each of which is also a hole in the series of letters.
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170500
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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
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170400
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The sound built up, louder and louder causing birds and insects to fly into the air. Then it stopped.
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17041411
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I dream of benzene rings/
and polymer shrouds
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170465
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I reach into my pocket for my keys and discover the cough drops Iput there a week ago have melted. Now my fingers are sticky. And I don’t have my keys.
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170420
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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…
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170400
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...the fatal bleeding-out of the love receptors. They call it “Juliet's Tears.”
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170422
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Light “I can escape the feeling of complicity in it only by speaking out.” The professor arrives on time, sockless. The former a sign of his polite upbringing. The latter, his lack of pretense and high …
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170463
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A week ago, Lina had felt a pain crack over her right eyebrow. It was there every day, creeping from her ear to the middle of her forehead.
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170465
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I wake up on the edge of the mattress, teetering. The dog is looking at me funny.
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1704138
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She bought a dog with short legs to make her own legs look longer.
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170422
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Not to sound too ridiculous, but Hurt was giving me the hurt, and it felt good.
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170411
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Un consejo esconde un futuro desastre. Es como si Mar le dijese a Desierto "amigo...impresionante. Dejate elevar por la atracción de Luna y verás". Y Desierto le replicase "está bien, y tú Mar, deja que Viento lleve tus olas hasta el nacimiento de los ríos, es brutal". …
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170410
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I was shooting baskets in the driveway when the Mexican kid delivered the groceries. He drove in fast and loud . . .
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170441
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A tanka/haiku poem about grandma getting run over by a reindeer.
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170421
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My wife storms into the kitchen with a pink mako shark slung over her shoulder, barking "Dinner!" towards me as I sit on the counter swishing my middle finger through a bowl of sand.
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170488
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“I won't live here,” Beth said, waving her hand to indicate the small Southern town in which they were having dinner—the most delicious fried chicken either of them had ever tasted—in a restaurant located in an antebellum mansion. She looked…
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170300
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Jaume jumped up from the bar, a wide smile across his face. He hugged his old friend and planted a kiss on his wife's cheeks. He was buzzing from the chance encounter, marveling how life had brought them together after all these years. There had to be a r
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170343
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Here’s the keys to the house
Here’s the keys to the car
I’m going out and I don’t care
I’m going out to buy a cigar
Don’t bother locking up after I leave
I’m not coming back anymore
I’m going to drink whiskey out of a jar
Go out and buy
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17031312
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Today I'm feeling fertilized by an egg—
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170311
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1703124
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Xanax, A hand gun, And the courage to pull the trigger
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170351
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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,
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170365
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I got on the Greyhound Bus at 11 a.m. and sat by myself staring out the window. I could see the reflection of my own dark beard in the window, a 27 year-old man with a huge poem bursting my heart, gasping to get out into the bright lit-up world out there,
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1703125
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Beneath their feet bedrock stretched a hundred miles
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170294
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Once upon a time there was a Vietnamese restaurant. And then there were two, and four, and eight...
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170222
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There she is. A paper doll of me. The dress, the lilt, the self-hatred. The crowd thins and swells in want of a scene. Conversations begin, pretend, then halt. My gin and tonic sweats into my hand and I lick at the…
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170210
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At last one of the men on the line bowed his head in a silent prayer for deliverance from what was about to come, then lifted his head and shouted loudly for his fellows to charge.
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170210
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“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!”
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170255
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another way to play with all that is that doesn't involve killing for profit. I believe that, don't you? There is always a much kinder response to the failing dawn of secret night. Dancers know the power of this beautiful all encompassing …
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