1501 10 6
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I enjoy launching words into space. Please dangle a moment here while I prepare the next sentence. Ok. You can come in now. Take boiling for instance. And hawsers. The sound of words on a sheet of paper. The manifesto for a roll of sleep. Sleep is oblivious to…
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150100
|
A Nocturne, whose grey mana seeped out of it mouth, grabbed the roof of the building with its large claws. Using it as leverage, it stood itself up, hunched over, its long whale like head roared like a loud horn.
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150130
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Theresa Esposito woke to the smell of pignoli cookies baking. The sweet scent made her stomach rumble. She was ten-years-old today. And she felt ten. Her hair, her ears, her eyes, her toes — everything felt ten.
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150131
|
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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150120
|
[B]y fleeing the city to live on the outskirts of nowhere—a place so far off the beaten path that even Duras’s aging Mr. Andesmas would have felt isolated—I was of course trying to escape from none other than myself.
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1501137
|
Can we survive our Y chromosome?
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150185
|
It's good enough. Spacious. Then the cards but I am not for cards. Sasha directs the people, helping them, at ease and happy even. Strangers that have found a common denominator in games. A brotherhood and sisterhood I can't understand. I watch. I see green…
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1501148
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Yes, he'll be quiet. Very quiet. He rocks himself, the ark, suddenly imagining water underneath him, over head, all around. Water, water, water—
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150100
|
Still as the knife on the counter there still. Like mothballs in a chest. One with clear bags and newspaper clippings and your scarf inside it. The baby girl could put a mothball in her mouth and suck it like a penny. The way too close to a light bulb bur
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150163
|
—Frank, how is your sex life?
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150144
|
She wakes up with rosemary.
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150152
|
I’ve just moved to New York City and, somehow, Scarlett Johansson is at the same party I’m at.
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150044
|
Moore doubted, perhaps, that readers could sympathize with a man who had killed someone for a cause or a girlfriend who forgave him. Perhaps she felt that maiming is (not) worse than murder. Perhaps she decided that the story should be about that.
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150092
|
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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150045
|
the beeps, rhythmic,
tell us that you're still with us
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1500107
|
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150063
|
Morning's first blush, their world in repose. Sated, drained, spent; …
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1500109
|
Polylinguists lash me
with tongues I cannot conjugate
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150022
|
Why yes I began writing this, my bildungsroman, Who is Mitsy Jackson, in spring, 1974 or thereabouts, and thank you so much for asking.
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150043
|
I'd never seen a dead person before, let alone one that was living just
seconds earlier.
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150022
|
" I have no idea what's goin on out here, and I'm gonna find out one way or another."
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150020
|
A shadowless torpedo shaped form plummeted from the grey, overcast skies upon the many unsuspecting. No remote pilot thousands of miles away guided this particular descent.
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150071
|
Emma Louise is walking over a concrete bridge when she spies, out of the corner of her eye, a man fishing, waist deep, in the river tumbling below. She is thinking that the water must be very cold on this autumn day, when she sees an extraordinary thing.
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150082
|
The ocean smelled like decomposed plant life and clinically despicable vagina, but I still spoke of its power and my fear of it in moonlit clichés and she still listened.
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150033
|
Quimby’s eyes lit up. “Oh, lads, there must be a thousan’ ways to die at sea! I’ve made th’ Atlantic passage a good many time; lemme recount some manners of death I’ve witnessed with mine own eyes.”
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1500149
|
Each day, they trot the coiffed/
and painted cadavers across the stage.
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150052
|
Billie Holiday and I want a cup of coffee and they tell us to go fuck ourselves.
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150000
|
The door shuts slowly to something that’s allegedly mine
and it sits there and waits until I come home
just like you.
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150011
|
He had a handsome dial tone, we called him every name but his.
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149987
|
a mere forty years/and maybe you become twelve,/maybe sixty-three.
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