1348 10 11
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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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134856
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Wearing Land’s End clothes at life’s end
Driving around in circles in your Codgermobile
with 3 good hubcaps.
Who wouldn’t want to steal that?
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134820
|
A dream that seems
Impossible
When fresh blood soaks the ground
|
134840
|
The way each intersection in a city where you’ve lived a while becomes layered with personal archeology.
The cafe that replaced a liquor store you avoided, and the friend (or lover) you broke up with there,
and the way on the day of the big fire you
|
134854
|
Aubrey pulled close the wool cloak that used to belong to a pilgrim and wondered if some of that saintliness and pardon might rub off. The mail was late and the bushes damp, but at least years of living in the woods had taught Aubrey to avoid thorns…
|
1348104
|
feet that would run until their soles were pages of Gideon’s Bibles, worn too thin to touch
|
134800
|
Even if you're doing it together, there's no unity when everyone's dancing to their own tune.
|
134875
|
o christ/ here you are again/ you sickness appearing in my brain/ pouring smog from my jaw/ my body hot and cold as though sleepless/ while i could sleep/ centuries/ undisturbed/ and awaken, tireder still./
|
134820
|
Now, the Kingdom of Begonia was known for its serenity and virtue. But just like any other place, there can sometimes be dark and mysterious inhabitants.
|
134794
|
Because you alone must know how to make a smile shine at me and be like the sun, I can only feel its warm and coolish colors becoming that perfectly deepened yellow then on to the red if you please that makes a shy kind of blue out of day. That…
|
134711
|
of Jim Beam when I was maybe fifteen. Or anyway old enough to admire the lesson.
|
134700
|
When you have lived with pain so long, you grow old and the old man inside of you takes over. That’s just the way it is.
|
134765
|
This writers' conference (sponsored by VQR, which had run its banner ad atop the Fictionaut home page in the summer of 2014, which begins to explain both my attendance and this essay) revealed itself as an apt subject . . .
|
134741
|
Byron's achievement, certainly quite remarkable, is to have raised the drunken monologue to a literary form.
Edmund Wilson
|
134753
|
The skinny one was kinda cute. He had this little mole over the left corner of his mouth that she just wanted to suck. She kept watching it go up and down as he talked, the way his full lips kept spreading and coming together. She really wanted to kiss…
|
13471211
|
a human hand/
looks sadly/
naked now
|
13472010
|
A sardonic moon/
surveys our plight and cackles.
|
134700
|
Dominic would show them all. That stupid "Welcome to Bessemer" sign was his. It was the pride of the whole damn town. No other target would do.It was the dead of night, and Dominic rode his bike to the town line. He briefly considered spray painting something vulgar over…
|
134733
|
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.”
|
134743
|
#spotify / Elevators / Sky Burial Monologue
|
13471311
|
My books wound you. They wound me / too.
|
134711
|
No way to know why she's here, but scars and scabs can hold more information than a file or chart.
|
134711
|
1. The sparrows' heads revolve slowly when you press the red button, but the boxing glove attachments don't work.2. A weird weaving of voices, unmusical harmony. One phrase punctures the texture: “The empty slot.”3. Poems are processed into more useful verbal…
|
134700
|
"If only we could all look like that."
"Truly lovely … such a perfect face."
The gallery was busy that day.
But still the man and woman stood.
|
134774
|
The Judge waited for the perfect wave.
|
134753
|
“There’s no real freedom in this world. But a car and the open road is close enough for government work.”
|
134744
|
It was one of those weekday mornings in early spring when Marjorie and I could wander from chapel to chapter house with only security guards for company.
|
13471010
|
|
134754
|
If you can imagine a ghost taking a shower then you can imagine the kind of emotion I have in mind.
|
13471511
|
Early Spring, 1075, Northumbria: Judith, too ashamed to speak, too angry to cry, waves her handmaiden away. She wants no food. Wind drives icy rain across the thickness of…
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