1651 0 0
|
Her shoes, left uninhibited below, seem sad but understanding, and she is so in love with something, which makes me so in love with the idea of her.
|
165153
|
It was midnight. I was outside the cottage, digging another row of star-shaped holes for the shrubbery.
|
165110
|
No matter how much he composes and prepares, he cannot override the electrical trigger in his brain. Something to do with the resonance of physical memory. It remembers amplitudes of current.
|
165185
|
I dreamt once
a child’s drawing of a house
all scribbly black crayon
swayback roof crooked
chimney. God, do you
remember how cold it was
that night?
|
165143
|
What follows is an interview George Bush gave to Barbara Walters in 2006. He came off like something out of a swamp. Dick Cheney made them deep-six the tapes and we never saw it on prime time. I got the transcript, however,…
|
165187
|
I imagine you in the States,
pushing stacks of work papers and our memories
to the side, sense your enjoyment that
you won’t see the worry of your
behavior reflected in my eyes again.
That you can buy and bang and be
whomever you want,
|
16512112
|
No twinkle- so, planet, not star./
And bright, so either Venus/
or Jupiter. I’m guessing, Jupiter.
|
165121
|
A look flashed across his face as if someone had hooked up his genitals to a car battery.
|
165131
|
The man had decided that this was going to be his last day. He’d find out one final thing and he’d be done. He had spent the last few years of his life unwinding things that had been wound and untying knots that had been tied.
|
16511312
|
The service was a disaster. The Protestants bobbed up and down. They didn't know when to stand, when to sit. I
|
16511312
|
Forty years later he was still her Romeo, she his Juliet.
|
165132
|
The combined smells of ocean breeze, grilled cheese sandwiches, incense and sweat and burning herb that wafted over from Shakedown, along with windblown notes from tinny car speakers all rolled into a potent sensory cocktail he hadn’t tasted in far too l
|
165131
|
The blackout lasted longer than anyone thought. From my fifth story window, the whole city seemed to shut down. I heard noises above me. How could it be?
|
165061
|
I’m trying to get this said, this piece of fact. If I am a person who can own something, then that something that I own is not me, not me as a person. I do not own my foot, my foot is my own. It’s like a whatsit, a semantic distinction I’m trying to
|
165033
|
I said, “If this rose doesn't grow another petal in twenty minutes, I'm burning down the neighborhood.” “Just let it go,” said Paul. “No,” I said. “That's what's happening right here.” “You'll try again next…
|
165094
|
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.
|
16502016
|
The night before his mother's teeth began chattering.
|
165053
|
under your skin the moon is alive
|
165096
|
New waitress/bartender
draws my attention to
bare ankles and red hair
|
165032
|
His academic nightmare is set in an examination hall, where the student takes a seat at a folding table in the center of the room.
|
165001
|
I followed the curve of the etched Koi, its filigree scales arcing across a taut midriff toward the indent of her pierced navel, where a collection of water lilies drifted on the surface of her skin.
|
165066
|
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…
|
165011
|
On that balcony, on every other day, she practised her other, more worldly religion - gardening, specifically sunflowers.
|
165053
|
|
165053
|
Rose lifted her 55-year-old legs until they were perpendicular to the bed and admired how girlish they looked. It gave her the sexy legs of a 20-year old, if the morning light was right and she squinted a bit.
|
1650188
|
Jesus is for sale. But he’s heavy.
|
165000
|
We were a perfect match of broken pieces of flesh and cobalt. We moved in waves of couch plastic crinkling and clicking.
|
164922
|
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.
|
164910
|
“We’re never going to get off the treadmill of paying ever-higher taxes," I said, "unless we get some creative suggestions from a professional bisexual tax advisor.”
|
1649117
|
the swarthy terror network
|
