1644 5 5
|
We pull up chairs. I breathe in her Bath and Body Works vanilla, read her paper slowly and aloud because the ears catch what the eyes miss. Her sentences are awkward, stilted.
|
164443
|
A story about convincing people to do things they don't want to do, written entirely in dialogue; originally published by CHEAP POP.
|
164421
|
This was before the cancer, years before. He did this every day: up at five, before Astrid and Max. Four cups of coffee in the machine. A bowl of granola. Five hundred words. Five hundred words no matter goddamn what. Five hundred words on Sunday and Chri
|
164496
|
Erased. Like chalk across my body,
a fine powder of forgetfulness,
with a few swipes --- all those names
and faces, gone. The letters burned.
|
164421
|
Well, yeah but no one that wasn't pointing a gun at me, mostly. I shot at a lot of people but there were only three times when I can honestly say I know that I blew someone away.
|
164411
|
children love to push the gas up and down my limbs
|
164330
|
I see ghosts. They accost me in their sleep. Hundreds of them. When I wake up (after a long night of half-waking), I think, What wold ghosts want with me? I have nothing for them. But at night they're there again, watching, tapping my shoulder as I lay awake. Sometime…
|
164387
|
Study decay, says the Queen of the Underground.
|
164322
|
" I have no idea what's goin on out here, and I'm gonna find out one way or another."
|
164365
|
I stole forth dimly in the dripping pause
|
164343
|
You think about the first time you saw an axe
|
16431110
|
Paris is a great place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there.
|
164300
|
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.
|
164398
|
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…
|
16431814
|
The phone rings. The oven beeps./
The locomotive whistles and howls.
|
164233
|
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.
|
164232
|
"Why, before the summer has passed
You won’t remember her name. . ."
|
164210
|
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.
|
164200
|
Welcome to the genocide city zone I'm sure you'll enjoy your stay We've been killing folks here All the live-long day If you want to join us You'll have to pay the price Your soul's the cost, so ante up C'mon and shoot the dice Welcome to the genocide city zone …
|
164295
|
I fear my personal information travels the World Wide Web/
and mad Ukrainians will steal my name and wealth./
I fear the fiscal cliff and raising the ceiling on national debt./
I fear a death by taxes.
|
164277
|
Suddenly everything is delaminating
People are popping right off
the surface of humanity
I am coming loose from my previous lives
|
164222
|
Beautiful boy! I am doomed / to have attended your presence; / time consumes us, but you / have changed so little...
|
164254
|
we gave divided houses / child stand up anyway
|
164240
|
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
|
164230
|
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.
|
1642158
|
She is too stylish to be crazy, is what the migrant probably thinks. And he's right.
|
164200
|
Even if you're doing it together, there's no unity when everyone's dancing to their own tune.
|
164285
|
We will collapse in a storm of images
|
164212
|
she shivered in the ceasefire like a virginal nude brought to life.
|
164187
|
First he wrote it in wet cement at the intersection:
“Tad Loves Kimberley,”
with a big heart around it.
He was real proud, you could see.
But then later on that year, the graffiti began
appearing everywhere, on all the store walls:
“Kimberle
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