1580 4 3
|
|
158000
|
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.
|
157922
|
Why yes I began writing this, my bildungsroman, Who is Mitsy Jackson, in spring, 1974 or thereabouts, and thank you so much for asking.
|
157965
|
The boy heard loud barks and squeals, climbed on a chair, and looked out the window at the barnyard and the faded blood red barn.
|
157952
|
We slept beside dripping glaciers
people like us
We were never meant to be housed
contained, kept, petted, cleaned
We could only be gutted
You used us one time
and threw us out
people like us
We sprouted the wings of desire
by watchi
|
157966
|
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…
|
157921
|
A look flashed across his face as if someone had hooked up his genitals to a car battery.
|
1579106
|
Eight days before her 50th birthday they were married in their soft new pajamas, holding hands on his bed in the hospital. The pastor and witnesses wore protective hospital gowns and gloves; the patient was in isolation once again. A special dispensation from the head…
|
157953
|
I sat at the kitchen counter, aware of a heaviness, a numbness, in my flesh, my bones, my mind. My dancer's body -- short, trim and 108 pounds -- felt as huge and unmoving as the…
|
157900
|
COLLEAGUES, ACQUAINTANCES SUSPECT MARK ZUCKERBERG IS A MASKED VIGILANTE
|
157965
|
Say the world is a smudged charcoal drawing. Slit from its frame, smuggled out of the Vatican. Don't say it couldn't happen. Who would know.
|
1578147
|
like the dome of an immense lamp
like blades of grass at the sweep of the scythe
like a line of cliffs against a tempestuous tide
|
157884
|
When hadrons collide they’re not always Swiss. They may be cheese or neutral but that isn’t of my concern.
Look at them, touch them, feel them, the quirks of the antiquarks, masonic mesons, baron baryon.
|
157855
|
beat them with fists and purses.
|
15781011
|
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.
|
157862
|
“He put his stuff down—sunglasses, lotion and so forth—and I noticed there’s a little notebook that he didn’t have before.‘What’s that?’” I asked, and he said ‘Nothing.’”
|
1578106
|
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…
|
157887
|
Cat fight. I rush outside and swinging my trusty broom I charge the rolling yowling ball of black fur.
|
157800
|
"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!"
|
157841
|
We cannot love the past...
|
1578107
|
For you have waited. And waited and waited. And soon your slice of bread will be ready.
|
157821
|
Last night Jim taught me how to catch forks. Meaning, he taught me how to throw them. But he called it catching forks. It was late, and we were low down 3rd street, south of the Bay Bridge, the baseball stadium, all the people and cars, on top of a warehouse. There were a…
|
157722
|
Mo Dean woke up sober.
And tired.
Tired of life, of soiled pants, rash, vomit, and whiskey sweat. Tired of holes in his pockets and blisters on his feet, of hanging signs asking for dimes and getting only pennies. And most of all, tired of the police.
|
1577179
|
Shakespeare had red hair / Van Gogh never painted a nude
|
157785
|
Snipers wear camouflage clothing to avoid being seen. It wouldn’t do for a sniper to be seen because then the sniper might become the snipee.
|
157700
|
The moon hung in the sky, round and pale, under cover of some wispy clouds.
|
15772310
|
If I should wake/
before I die,/
just shoot me through/
the one good eye.
|
157732
|
it felt fucking awesome at that moment, in that way only little things can feel huge and life affirming
|
157753
|
It was midnight. I was outside the cottage, digging another row of star-shaped holes for the shrubbery.
|
157764
|
Everybody needs a flaw or two. It builds character.
|
