1577 4 4
|
unwrapping
the gauze from her wrists....
|
15771711
|
|
15771312
|
Forty years later he was still her Romeo, she his Juliet.
|
157700
|
Bobby took one out and looked at the date. "July 1965. Does that mean anything to you, Ma? Carla, T.J.?" Bobby handed the paper to my mother. "Why don't you spread it out on the counter to see if you can find something that he might have wanted…
|
157774
|
I break your flesh
and make music
on the harp of your bones.
|
1577107
|
I wander toward the midnight dock
a neon sine curve stabs my eyes
|
157654
|
Facebook just hit me with an ad for coping with memory loss, probably because I just turned 63. As far as my favorite social media site is concerned, I am now an Old Lady. When I asked my Facebook pals who are also Seniors what kind of promotions have been turning up…
|
157632
|
How long have you been waiting for me? How long?
|
157632
|
I cut myself. Often. The bloodslice like thin lips parted/in prayer.
life’s color drained to ashen/as the old world spins, pirouettes/like a circus dog on the back/of a galloping horse.
|
157643
|
Atlanta, 1990The night we almost died,crushed at a one-hit wonder concert,comes back to mewhen the club announces it's closing.An ancient excelsior millturned industrial dance hall,I spent three years mapping every dark corner, finding secret places for sex and…
|
157610
|
It was the middle of May when I found out my teacher was screwing my mother.
|
157610
|
If you work with the public, you're stressed. Unreasonable customers. Demanding bosses. Reduced staffing. I love my job, but the workload is tough and getting tougher. What can we do to keep our spirits up?Play Customer Appreciation! It's simple. Assign a point value…
|
157694
|
This guy struts and never walks, and while doing so he reads and sends text messages and emails from his smart phone and so never walks in a straight line.
|
157621
|
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.
|
157600
|
The artist leans back in his chair, smoking a cigarette
after lunch, looking away from the table toward the right
He is dressed in white, and he's practically stretched out
his entire length, to relax after rowing the boat all
morning. Sunlight
|
1576114
|
The flash of love was real, the life within her was real, and the main thing now was to climb.
|
157667
|
Except where its waves break gently,/
white frothed and reassuring along the shore,
|
157653
|
|
157576
|
I read it all wrong. In writing her novel, I thought Marilynne Robinson was writing about twins — writing, in some way, about me. Instead, these characters, Lucille and Ruthie, were standard sisters, one older than the other. In fact, Robinson explains th
|
157563
|
N-n-never screamscold a cat.
|
1575117
|
the swarthy terror network
|
157543
|
There was a body in the backseat, and they drove through the highways at night to a late night radio show that played 80’s power ballads. He said: “I am really glad you’re here for me.”
|
157522
|
" I have no idea what's goin on out here, and I'm gonna find out one way or another."
|
1575158
|
I paid the doctor / You paid the doctor
|
15752016
|
The night before his mother's teeth began chattering.
|
157582
|
Running into the fire, the smoke and the chaos;
selfless first responders, innocent bystanders,
and dedicated runners
|
157522
|
Beautiful boy! I am doomed / to have attended your presence; / time consumes us, but you / have changed so little...
|
157598
|
On my twenty-second birthday, in the spring of 1979, I had a crawfish boil, my first. Ninety pounds of red mudbugs on a picnic table spread with newspaper, my birthday cake sitting at the end of the table like an afterthought.I hadn't…
|
157511
|
The night is very clear and unusually cold. We are so near to the star that its light banishes the darkness that tries futilely to extinguish it. A small village twinkles in the foothills to our east. The cry of a lost sheep cuts the night like a blade
|
157530
|
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