1606 21 12
|
He would not take Prozac and talked Jesus to her as if from a bucket.
|
16062014
|
I become the accumulation/
of appetites
|
160653
|
It was midnight. I was outside the cottage, digging another row of star-shaped holes for the shrubbery.
|
1606137
|
I miss Mother gentling the small of my back. She has forgotten me. Her little girl. Whose thumb she fussed over when a rose thorn scratched it and blood spilled like a secret. Whose smile she said was her morning sunshine, whose hug was incense. I yearn for her lips…
|
160682
|
Running into the fire, the smoke and the chaos;
selfless first responders, innocent bystanders,
and dedicated runners
|
160654
|
She allowed him to wash her hair. Touching it in a wet state, running his hands through it in a soapy state, wringing the water out when he was finished—he was ecstatic.
|
160663
|
rockstar, moviestar, literary supernova – burning out before all the planets are declassified.
|
160643
|
Her back turned, she wanders off
searching for the way home
wringing her hands,
trying to think, but thoughts
evade her.
|
16061410
|
In those years,
you and I were told to leap
for a world suffused with sound
and industry.
|
16062114
|
I don't believe in symbols
but there's a hole
in my living room window
in the shape of a bird
|
160621
|
A look flashed across his face as if someone had hooked up his genitals to a car battery.
|
160664
|
Harpo was there with his wife. Harpo’s girlfriend came up behind the couch where I was sitting, and I ran my hand up her leg underneath her dress.
|
160600
|
The church building was a rustic structure made of rough-cut lumber that over-lapped in the clap-board fashion. The building itself was unpainted, but the boards were a weathered gray that only came from years of exposure to weather. The steeple towered o
|
160554
|
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…
|
160510
|
It was the middle of May when I found out my teacher was screwing my mother.
|
160542
|
To be a backup dancer for Billy Ocean; that's all. I had chubby legs like a baby. They turned out akwardly as if I had broken hips but mum said it was just the way I came out and I would grow out of it.
|
160500
|
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
|
1605106
|
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…
|
160583
|
Every ten days, the Decadent Sisters assembled for dinner. Although raised together, they were each very different...
|
16051312
|
My eyes hold my mother. It's not easy being human she tells me. She always told me. Sure, but the stories are lovely. We all know that. We generate the tales, tell the tales, kiss our children. Live on in their eyes, though, don't…
|
160530
|
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.
|
1605148
|
One of the drunk men, a dear friend, hunk, as he updated me, now living the existence of a poet, called from San Francisco to say he would take the plane to Minneapolis, do it, then leave me to raise the baby.
|
160566
|
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…
|
160500
|
“Gorgonzolla!” The remnant croaked, his eyes wild as he thrust an open hand in Jaffron's direction. A burst of energy tilted Jaffron's pod on its axis and sent it hurtling backwards...
|
160522
|
|
160465
|
His looks were polished like his shoes, his hair as black. No one would have guessed he made his living as a thief.
|
160476
|
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
|
160421
|
my maddening pyromaniac,/ you're burning up my heart/ so open up your broad-toothed mouth/ and let me pour the ashes in.
|
160420
|
You beckon me with an aperitif.
The Kir Royal tingles, its bubbles tickling my nose.
Its subtle black courant pulls me into your smile.
I drink from your lips the champagne-tingle of your kiss.
|
160400
|
"You look awfully familiar," said one of the corrupt oil company execs to the dark-haired man with the sunglasses and big sideburns.
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