1638 18 8
|
Jesus is for sale. But he’s heavy.
|
163822
|
Remembering you is easy
We do it every day,
When little Mike and Joey
Ask when the hell is Daddy ever coming home to play?
|
16371710
|
Another new spring and the leaves
|
163785
|
It's all over now, Baby Blue...
|
163710
|
“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.”
|
163733
|
From this distance, he reminded me of a sleazy pink flamingo, waiting for feeding time at the zoo to deepen the timbre of his feathers and hint at the promise of a narcotic aviation before his commune of hens.
|
163733
|
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…
|
163742
|
Culloden County, MS - 1989 All Janine knew was the idiot had a gun. As to why he would ever need one was beyond her. He couldn't look dumber holding it, either. He was too small for it, or at least he looked that way to…
|
16372016
|
The night before his mother's teeth began chattering.
|
163744
|
My father's cousin is Salem the Dead.
Famed, an infant Lazarus of Libya,
he was brought lifeless from the womb,
yet awoke to the chill of a mortuary slab.
|
163700
|
The bullet split her head in half before she could finish her sentence. Her blood sprayed out onto my face and covered my lips. The taste of life as it suddenly ended.
|
163740
|
We’re more into the punishment that works its way in through the skin and coats the heart anonymously.
|
16371814
|
The phone rings. The oven beeps./
The locomotive whistles and howls.
|
16371410
|
A woman posted a story on Fictionaut about discovering that her husband was a werewolf.
|
163743
|
Auto and the Grease-Pits
Sugar Cube
Full Frontal
The Holy Grill
Crazy Al and the Squirrels
Talk Is Cheap
Grilled Cheese Sandwich
Cold Zippers
Destiny Howl
Epiphany Critter
Cold Kneecaps
Crepes
Pulled Pork
Baby Seals and the Club
|
163730
|
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.
|
163777
|
I’m decades in and it hasn’t gone away.
In all other respects, I am normal. Life
is hard, but I’m not complaining. The thing
is, I am in a constant state of falling.
|
163611
|
|
163665
|
I stole forth dimly in the dripping pause
|
163610
|
Row,
Caps of white,
A salted escape
beneath reflected light.
Brother, remember those old lies?
I’m off to sea to make those things right,
now.
|
163611
|
Her cash. It smelled like seven-dollar-a-quart gardenia perfume and cave aged cheese—like hope overgrown with mildew.
|
16361210
|
What did it mean? What would a psychologist say? Oh, who cares. In my opinion, we ask why, what, when, where, and how too often.
|
163670
|
He came running out of his narrow little shop, Berthillon
and chased me down the Ilse St. Louis street, saying,
“Monsieur, Monsieur, nous avon pamplemousse!
It’s ici, Monsieur. Your pamplemousse.
They just come in this matin, morning
and I’
|
163687
|
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,
|
163640
|
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
|
163643
|
A story about convincing people to do things they don't want to do, written entirely in dialogue; originally published by CHEAP POP.
|
1636158
|
She is too stylish to be crazy, is what the migrant probably thinks. And he's right.
|
163610
|
|
163600
|
We were a perfect match of broken pieces of flesh and cobalt. We moved in waves of couch plastic crinkling and clicking.
|
163641
|
On our back porch, the tiki torches are lit and so am I.
|
