1605 8 7
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It doesn't take a genius to figure how he sank, in the drink, like Jeff Buckley. Like a stone.
|
160565
|
She stood there with her back to me and her dress around her ankles.
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160500
|
When we talked about the lasagna, we were, I see now, talking about different things. I.e., I was talking about lasagna, and you were talking about almost everything but. You weren't talking about the dry, burnt noodles or…
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1605122
|
There is nothing like your first time, and by that I am referring of course to the first time you purchased a 45.Going to a record store and buying a 45 is a uniquely Boomer experience. Because, alas, there are no more 45s. Or, for that matter, record stores. The…
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160511
|
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.
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160510
|
I was shooting baskets in the driveway when the Mexican kid delivered the groceries. He drove in fast and loud . . .
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1605137
|
Can we survive our Y chromosome?
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160571
|
My mother was Irish as Paddy's pig. So all her family. Lovely people they were. Also, seldom seen among the Folk; stone cold sober. My father's family; Bavarian German. Bavaria's the wrong side of the German tracks. Frankfort people laugh at Bavarians as people in…
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160500
|
In order to be a catalyst for catharsis — which is just a fancy way of saying agent of change — you have to be willing to condition yourself into something partially inhuman. Only something on the very outskirts of humanity…
|
160585
|
collars of obedience /
discarded in the pyre /
with draft cards and bras
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1604127
|
In time, I will forgethow he said "smooshie" for "smoothie"and "eyebrowns" for "eyebrows,"how his upper lip dimpled when he laughedin that uproarious, wild toddler way.How he wheedled to be wrapped and rocked,after a bath, even at age five,his long calves uncovered by…
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160420
|
I was ashamed of my conscience.
|
160487
|
tumbling for you from afar as close-up. They will rewrite your dancing form like a proper magical spell on all their maddest days, using the branches of cherished trees dipped into the trapped wells of certain hosts of …
|
160453
|
We sat in silence, the entire train, the few other passengers in anxious wait to see if I would change my mind. We all flipped pages, glanced up at each other, looked away when noticed.
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160452
|
“You done done sumpin’,” the old man guessed, “Sumpin’ bad...”
|
160411
|
Roanne hungered. Memory had ruled her forever. Shards really, edged like machetes: daddy, whose fingers had eyes in the dark. Momma, ensconced in the shadows. Inside the church, those pairs of short…
|
160454
|
I said, “That bird is hungry.”
The sparrow was eying both of us
At our separate outside café tables
As it hopped around looking for crumbs.
Then it would look up at us
Expectantly.
|
160499
|
not every punishment proceeds / without a hitch
|
160431
|
The old man sat in the run-down shack, nursing his lobol-weed tea, and cursing the bitter cold wind outside.
|
160431
|
As a rule, she calls me whenever she’s waiting for her train or bus. ‘Hiya… How’s life-’ she starts off sweetly. Even though I should know better by now, I can only respond in the same old way. I’ll say: ‘Hi Kate!’. Next, I’ll try to te
|
160440
|
“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
|
160455
|
there should be a word for it.
|
160454
|
Bill decided he hated his neighbors on a Sunday morning in June.
|
160300
|
The sound built up, louder and louder causing birds and insects to fly into the air. Then it stopped.
|
160311
|
Directions: Match the stanza to the Beat icon:
A. William S. Burroughs
B. Peter Orlovsky
C. Jack Kerouac
D. Carl Solomon
E. Allen Ginsberg
F. Neal Cassidy
|
160331
|
If this is trouble, please call someone else.
|
160333
|
|
160394
|
don't look at me honey, I fell on the table,
my hair is on fire, my heart is unstable
|
160342
|
How hard it is to pretend to be someone else. Alone, together, in the silence... I thought about how you must really like me to act quite like that. I wanted to hold your hand and read the unsent love letters.
|
160376
|
In the blacklight of the storm, mother would tremble, spit and sway as the shutters would clatter and she would give away her balance. It was more than my heart could bear. She would always center her accusation with, “your boyfriend is a rake and a flam.” That…
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