1620 11 9
|
skin cancer
walks along Zuma beach
at noon
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161911
|
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
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161910
|
“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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161994
|
don't look at me honey, I fell on the table,
my hair is on fire, my heart is unstable
|
161942
|
Although badly educated, and although the Michoacána fought to deny it, she held the complex notion that borders are not abrupt lines, simple artifacts of geography and cartography.
|
161952
|
“You done done sumpin’,” the old man guessed, “Sumpin’ bad...”
|
1619177
|
a song jolts my memory . . .
|
161931
|
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.
|
161922
|
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
|
161954
|
We were wild, medieval magpies,
sweaty and sweet and selfish; and so much more
than we were before I lit that first stick of spice,
|
1619118
|
He liked to take pictures of her, and she liked to pose. It made her horny, she said.
|
161944
|
“Gladys Miller!” the dog shouted. “Live a little. TiVo it.”
|
161986
|
in late fall, Rome, sans wind, sans rancor,
sans sand or rain, sans hate ...
|
161931
|
I’m secretly hoping for a huge bouquet, a fruit basket, a pickle jar of urine in a lunch bag on my doorstep, even.
|
161811
|
Background
foreground
life in the middle
|
161888
|
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.
|
161843
|
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.
|
161892
|
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.
|
161800
|
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.
|
161875
|
I got a sixth of a cow in the freezer
That’s not meant to be just a teaser
I guess all I’m sayin’
Come on home and you’ll be stayin’
Cause I got a sixth of a cow in the freezer
Got a rack and a half of ribs
I ain’t tellin’ you no fibs
|
161830
|
His mother named him Far because she had high hopes for him
|
161811
|
Later, your father stared, confused, at the empty spot where the wall paint layers ended in the shape of the old machines. He stopped coming in.
|
161810
|
I was shooting baskets in the driveway when the Mexican kid delivered the groceries. He drove in fast and loud . . .
|
161861
|
I was quite alone in this small room with the tarp and the dying fire.
|
161855
|
there should be a word for it.
|
16181513
|
I asked the hospice nurse about maggots.
|
161763
|
"Thanks for the wild sex--let me know if you have any problems with the lint trap."
|
161774
|
I was just sitting in the corner, stirring my stories with a straw that sucked characters out of bars.
|
161787
|
It doesn't take a genius to figure how he sank, in the drink, like Jeff Buckley. Like a stone.
|
161745
|
The last time Cyrus rode in a train’s passenger car, he came home a dead man.
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