1506 2 2
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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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150633
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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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1506189
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1506149
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Each day, they trot the coiffed/
and painted cadavers across the stage.
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150662
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150696
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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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150630
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white-gray mounds persist
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150666
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The Misses Moses by Brad Watson from Aliens in the Prime of Their Lives The Moses sisters lived together, alone, in the fine old brick house near downtown where they…
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15061312
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Today I'm feeling fertilized by an egg—
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150600
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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.
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150577
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As spilled on a sandy Corona del Mar beach/both in moonlight and starlight so lovely/and strangely sad as if receding still
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150542
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150554
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“Sixty-seven responses!” Al Edelstein announces at the first meeting of the search committee. It has been just two weeks since Rabbi Feldman dropped dead of a heart attack and just a week since the congregation ran the ad: “Help Wanted: Orthodox Rabbi. Im
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150576
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—indistinct and foggy, my eyes lost at sea,
confined to a horizon not close to land.
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150573
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I did do one nice thing for you
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150522
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my mouth is open, ready to bite your tiny toes
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150541
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Infinite patience, tempered glass hearts—is this what it takes? /
Shatterproof backtrack, slow march through reversals—too, what it takes.
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150541
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@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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150522
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" I have no idea what's goin on out here, and I'm gonna find out one way or another."
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150553
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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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150577
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We are/no more than heartbeats on repeat.
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150563
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It was only a dream. No one died, nor were they even harmed. So horrifying!
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150571
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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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150582
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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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150511
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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…
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1505198
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A proper study of human history should
lead the student to an inescapable desire
to commit suicide
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150520
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She dips a toothpick in ink, running prick over paper, simply to prove herself wrong.
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150531
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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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150565
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They acquire him in a bar that is famous for its shipwrecks.
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150564
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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…
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