1570 2 0
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The rocket shone in the distance. Cape Canaveral had never looked so pretty.
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157075
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...the daffodils will fling/
their yellow petals, taunting winter
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157000
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The door shuts slowly to something that’s allegedly mine
and it sits there and waits until I come home
just like you.
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157020
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From somewhere beneath the train, steam rose, which was—of course—puzzling as the train was powered by electricity. The steam condensed on the windows of the cars, making tears streak across the surface. Perhaps that was why the woman’s cheeks were shinin
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157043
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1570107
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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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157052
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I’ve just moved to New York City and, somehow, Scarlett Johansson is at the same party I’m at.
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156985
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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.
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1569106
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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…
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156988
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His mother was a ballerina.
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156953
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“There’s no real freedom in this world. But a car and the open road is close enough for government work.”
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1569138
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I worry for the daffodils/
and there optimistic yellow bursts./
I worry for the over-eager clover,//
prodigious green on crepe myrtles,/
even for the early green of nut grass.
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156987
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Cat fight. I rush outside and swinging my trusty broom I charge the rolling yowling ball of black fur.
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156930
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Theresa Esposito woke to the smell of pignoli cookies baking. The sweet scent made her stomach rumble. She was ten-years-old today. And she felt ten. Her hair, her ears, her eyes, her toes — everything felt ten.
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15691910
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156855
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There was a certain romanticism in it, the salty old man sidling up to me at a bar, rhapsodizing in a slurred stream of conscious about the state of the world, the country, the state of his own heart. He didn't have an eye patch nor beard, nor was he…
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1568108
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I bit her ear and /
it was burnt toast
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156800
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And it's a tough thing
to become a father,
a contradiction;
guiding a child to avoid the things
that you know about so well.
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156822
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my mouth is open, ready to bite your tiny toes
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156832
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it felt fucking awesome at that moment, in that way only little things can feel huge and life affirming
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156853
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It was midnight. I was outside the cottage, digging another row of star-shaped holes for the shrubbery.
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156853
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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…
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156800
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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
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156821
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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…
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156874
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We are all in big trouble. Here's some fiction to let your soul experience the beast.
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156743
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It is within my nature, and many others I know, to cling to what’s consistent and certain: the battles fought in the war for survival and the organic camaraderie borne in the trenches. Sometimes the quest and the people we commiserate with along the way
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156773
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I did do one nice thing for you
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156700
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The moon hung in the sky, round and pale, under cover of some wispy clouds.
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15672310
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If I should wake/
before I die,/
just shoot me through/
the one good eye.
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156721
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What was so bad about other religions that their followers were automatically condemned to eternal damnation? The priests were so convincing when they claimed Christ was the only true way.
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