1504 8 2
|
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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15041011
|
She left knives and hot pots with handles akimbo. Like a guardian angel, he turned them in. Like an ungrateful Eve, she turned them back out.
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1504189
|
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150420
|
She dips a toothpick in ink, running prick over paper, simply to prove herself wrong.
|
150400
|
The door shuts slowly to something that’s allegedly mine
and it sits there and waits until I come home
just like you.
|
150464
|
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…
|
150400
|
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
|
1504117
|
When I cook sausages, I am afraid I will not let them sit in the pan long enough, and they will be pink inside. Then, even if the pigs have been handled humanely, I and the person for whom I've prepared this meal will be at risk for some terrible stomach poisoning.Let's say…
|
150465
|
She’s not coming today. She didn’t come yesterday either.
|
150498
|
|
150463
|
The Assistant is lost again in a grid city. Again she feels disconnected from the world. Where she is the sound has been switched off.
|
150400
|
My gaze could have gutted any man. Any man, but John Marcy. History would write that John Marcy was a traitor to his country. Public enemy number one in the state of New York. When that probably couldn’t be farther from the truth.
|
150363
|
"Eye contact is essential as it shows confidence. I walk with purpose and hope that my skirt isn’t too short. "
|
150311
|
Once upon a time in the days of old
There lived a poor tailor who- I am told-
Did brag that his daughter
Spun straw into gold!
|
150345
|
the beeps, rhythmic,
tell us that you're still with us
|
150300
|
|
150341
|
@font-face { font-family: "Cambria"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; } …
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150311
|
After years of unsustainable binge spending and a global economic semi-meltdown, most people have had to cut back on their expenses. Many folks are struggling to make do in this new and bewildering economy and we are all learning to live on our means, rather than beyond…
|
150333
|
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.”
|
150311
|
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…
|
150373
|
Who ever saw an open upright pop bottle on the street?
|
1503129
|
She said, “I think I’m pregnant,” but I thought that the sidewalk looked cleaner than usual,
|
150331
|
The old man sat in the run-down shack, nursing his lobol-weed tea, and cursing the bitter cold wind outside.
|
150356
|
It's tough when muscle gets in the way of memory. The way pain is the only thing I can remember about certain things. Fifth grade, that's what I think of. I think of pain. Not just abstract pain, not some we'll get to it later adolescent angst or ennui.…
|
1503119
|
skin cancer
walks along Zuma beach
at noon
|
150288
|
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.
|
150211
|
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
|
150265
|
His looks were polished like his shoes, his hair as black. No one would have guessed he made his living as a thief.
|
150273
|
I did do one nice thing for you
|
15022310
|
If I should wake/
before I die,/
just shoot me through/
the one good eye.
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