1698 27 14
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1698107
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For you have waited. And waited and waited. And soon your slice of bread will be ready.
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169811
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“Can you adopt if you work for the circus?” I asked her
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169722
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He grew up needing an enemy, his class warfare instincts kindled by the death of his father in the labor dispute and bolstered by the readings of Steinbeck, Lawrence, Sinclair and others, and the college-bound students who were particularly bothered by Pi
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169754
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Published writers will tell you that the most important thing you can do as a beginning writer is to know your markets! So this month, we'll talk about two of the markets open to you and your riveting but as yet unpublished prose -- Fling Magazine and Clubhouse…
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169798
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When our kids were very young, my wife and I believed it was important to give our children traditions that they could grow up with. One such tradition that we shared each Thanksgiving was to walk down by the cliffs along the ocean. We'd all go, our kids…
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16971911
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served as it is/
among these friends.
The frayed filaments/
tickle my chin and irritate my nostrils,
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169755
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This story is falling head-first into a mud-puddle.
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169754
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She allowed him to wash her hair. Touching it in a wet state, running his hands through it in a soapy state, wringing the water out when he was finished—he was ecstatic.
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169796
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Listen to him barking in the night. Fear shifts on the bed next to you, hogging the covers. Stare at the ceiling and wonder what to do. Forget his birthday. Forget he is forty-two. Forget the phone call from Berkeley twenty-one years…
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1697127
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Essences of bull and bison,//
stag and horse, illuminate/
the stony underground.
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1697127
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169731
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The old man sat in the run-down shack, nursing his lobol-weed tea, and cursing the bitter cold wind outside.
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169752
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Maybe this very short story is about shyness. Maybe. I'm not sure.
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169692
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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.
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169694
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don't look at me honey, I fell on the table,
my hair is on fire, my heart is unstable
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1696128
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I pointed, trying to keep a rising frisson of alarm from my voice.
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169653
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“But I don't HAVE an accent,” she said. With an accent. “Tell him I don't have an accent, y'all.” Looking from one friend to another. Messy ponytail bouncing. I just stared. I may have blinked. A couple times. Every syllable…
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169622
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He does not read what he’s giving them permission to do to him, just signs the release.
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169644
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I try to enjoy my bookbut the mannequins keep tapping at the windowWhen I look up they vanish Outsidefibreglass clouds are kept in placeby invisible wires——Sometimes the mannequins …
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1696122
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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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169665
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The boy was sure of something,She was just the one. The girl was sure of nothing, Her life had just begun. For him, he'd found his partner, There was never any doubt. For her, he was fine for now, But there was more to learn about. He thought it was a perfect…
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16961010
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My lipline's retreated since Tuesday. I'll toss those Hazel Bishop reds, (lipstick on shriveled lips rattles men, scares little children) skip Woolworth's cosmetics counter, save backaching, ankleswelling pondering of powders, rouges, …
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1696113
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As a young baby, perhaps a year old, I have a memory of sitting on myfathers lap, in front of a coal stove to keep us warm, while my mothercooked soft boiled eggs for him every morning. He would break offa piece of his toast, dip it in the egg, and feed it to…
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169685
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Ellen arrived on the beach when it was still too dark to see the ground; the fine shells and small, sharp rocks hurt her feet, but she went ahead until her toes felt the edge…
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169622
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Hello floaty word man / suspended in smoke / chortling coughing with collapsing colon / spraying sounds into the day / making it night and ending the line
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169611
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“We know you’re in there, motherfucker. Step out, slowly, and we might keep you fit for an open casket funeral."
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169511
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This new kid on the block, named Miller, showed up out of the blue one day, while we were throwing rocks and boulders down on this flimsy gray sheet of construction plywood that was covering an open trench in front of a new house on our block. One of the
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169511
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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
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1695149
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the wind mistook your arms for wings
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