1456 4 4
|
He keeps saying it,
babbles the term like he knows what it means
and we wince and interject with mama,
mama,
mama,
|
145600
|
Tadd Dameron once described himself as “the most misplaced musician in the business,” and one needn’t call the missing persons bureau to determine that he may have been right.
|
1456129
|
She said, “I think I’m pregnant,” but I thought that the sidewalk looked cleaner than usual,
|
145611
|
The highway stretches out in front of me, a black ribbon winding into the future; a collapsing probability of possibility connecting me with the past and through it to the future.
|
145664
|
We bobbed and weaved using our words like the sniffs of two unfamiliar dogs in a Wal-mart parking lot. Wary, but sensing we could be more than just polite neighbors, once we got past the normal darkness of strangers. There was no plot to our story yet, but we both seemed to…
|
145631
|
On the news they said that there was a baby born in a stable. There are rumours that he may be the son of God but initial reports are unconfirmed.
|
145622
|
|
1456119
|
skin cancer
walks along Zuma beach
at noon
|
1456125
|
Beneath their feet bedrock stretched a hundred miles
|
14552112
|
We lie sleepless at night, enraged,/
and finger the keyboard
|
1455102
|
Saturday morning, and I’m pushing the old truck a little, chasing retreating bands of cloud shadows along a winding hilltop road.
|
14552310
|
If I should wake/
before I die,/
just shoot me through/
the one good eye.
|
145522
|
Why yes I began writing this, my bildungsroman, Who is Mitsy Jackson, in spring, 1974 or thereabouts, and thank you so much for asking.
|
14551511
|
|
145500
|
That was the summer that Christine Nelson owned me.
It felt like catching the flu. I had it bad. I was about to turn seven, and it was my first time, and it was bad. A love like that, I don’t know, it’s not a love supreme. It wasn’t completely cru
|
1455116
|
On my honeymoon, we went upstate to the Catskill Mountains.
|
1455108
|
no more trying to keep / the peace, no more trying / to keep every person happy. / Just this: no more.
|
145543
|
. . . the empiricism of the mechanical had wound tight into her, lessons her few calendars could never impart without aid from sundials, hourglasses, clocks.
|
145555
|
awoke in confusion, fear and hurt never seen before that day a year past
|
145555
|
This story is falling head-first into a mud-puddle.
|
145575
|
Why flash?because the moments, the moments, they pass in flashes of brilliancethat shudder, death glow alightand nothing makes sense beyond nowand nothing will help me but meand I am not even enoughnot my thoughts or your nod of assentor even the deep sigh of…
|
145543
|
The songs that she used to sing to him still dance in his head while he wrangles equations. The stars in the cosmos spell out her name.
|
145521
|
The Mojave Desert remembers Ron Paul
With tattered billboards
Scraped and clawed by vehement dust
|
145500
|
"I want more grandchildren to spoil," the woman said. Will took a swig of beer at such moments. Maxine only answered with “someday” and looked over toward her husband. She knew it was his fault, didn’t really know why, but blamed him anyway.
|
145511
|
“We know you’re in there, motherfucker. Step out, slowly, and we might keep you fit for an open casket funeral."
|
14541914
|
Before she flushes the toilet the world is spinning.
|
145476
|
I read it all wrong. In writing her novel, I thought Marilynne Robinson was writing about twins — writing, in some way, about me. Instead, these characters, Lucille and Ruthie, were standard sisters, one older than the other. In fact, Robinson explains th
|
145453
|
“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…
|
145499
|
True story, I swear to God.
|
145431
|
"She saw they were absorbed in making faces at each other with a smartphone app that enlarged a mouth."
|
