1634 17 12
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There are 1.45 million readers
of poetry in the US and
2.9 million poets. The odds
of an audience are bad.
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163443
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We decide not to go to the emergency room
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163400
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When we talked about the lasagna, we were, I see now, talking about different things. I.e., I was talking about lasagna, and you were talking about almost everything but. You weren't talking about the dry, burnt noodles or…
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163421
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Allie didn't share that moment with Jim. That moment he spoke about whenever they made new friends as a couple— that moment he planned to recount at their engagement party.
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16341011
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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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163421
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Slipshod shoes were the first sign of a meltdown. Sometimes she could see it coming. A prickly gentleman washing his clothes on a Thursday afternoon. One week he’s fine. Nothing wrong with owning a sour face. The next Thursday, his shoes don’t match.
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163433
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Things looked way too normal to be normal. The cold, gliding black eyed swans never once straying far from each other's wake, the cute blue jeaned lovers everyone secretly watched carefully picking their trickling way over small odd rocks and…
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163489
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Mr. Blumberg and I sat side by side on a small couch in the family room. He was watching a football game on TV.
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163400
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"Look at the grime on those curtains. Not fit for an Emperor. Pull them down. Put up fresh new ones. Not a spot."
"Oh! Look at this throne. All uneven legs. The gems are not shining. The gold looks dull. Fix it, fix it, fix it!"
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163440
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A short triangular plastic shovels into the/White plastic container filled with topaz crystal-like/Salt granulars. Scratchy sandy sounds echo.
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1634107
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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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163311
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Surrounded by a stressfull sense of trying to understand the human condition. The flawed characters in the story speak of past violence and conflict. It is about a boy who is dealing with a recent suicide attempt on his own life & the regrets that come wi
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163343
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The print is not ideal, it's true.
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1633146
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She drinks a chocolate martini. I fold myself up and slide into her pocket.
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163300
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It was like Azure was dictating the tempo of a song. Fluid in motion, and a story told.
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163352
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Do you remember who I am yet?
I remember the first time you made love to me. It appears I was one of the lucky ones … it wasn’t in a car, it wasn’t in your Dad’s boat, underwater, or any other weird place you've written about. It was actual
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163300
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“Do we really want to treat her? Is she even really sick, or does she live in a country as real as ours, but one we can never visit?”
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163353
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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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163387
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tumbling for you from afar as close-up. They will rewrite your dancing form like a proper magical spell on all their maddest days, using the branches of cherished trees dipped into the trapped wells of certain hosts of …
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163363
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It was only a dream. No one died, nor were they even harmed. So horrifying!
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163396
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I tell myself I should have known. You were always absence.
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163365
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With each step, that cold hand steals ever upward.
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163365
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When I first started out in my working career, I made it the habit of obtaining jobs with companies that were about to go under. (I wrote more books while on unemployment than by any other method.) I was a real bloodhound at sniffing out the pre-dawn od
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163343
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Many years ago I visited a nude beach. I undressed at the car and walked with my companions onto a California beach as naked as the day we were born.
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163343
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163356
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IN nature, it's hard to find a straight line. Stand on a beach. Look out to sea. There out far you might think you see a line where the sky comes down to join. Where two fields of blue meet. But where you're not quite sure for the line is a blur there. You…
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1633179
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Words darken with smut and irony over time.
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163297
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The Girl with a typewriter mouthhas a body like a single sheet of blank white paper. I wasobsessed with the Beatles, she tellsme. Well, there are worse things to beobsessed with, I tell her. No, shesays, I mean REALLY obsessed. Oh,is all I can think to reply to…
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1632179
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Shakespeare had red hair / Van Gogh never painted a nude
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163211
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Barbie wore only her clear pink heels...
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