1557 15 8
|
She is too stylish to be crazy, is what the migrant probably thinks. And he's right.
|
15571511
|
Early Spring, 1075, Northumbria: Judith, too ashamed to speak, too angry to cry, waves her handmaiden away. She wants no food. Wind drives icy rain across the thickness of…
|
1557157
|
Mark Reep is a faded Polaroid oracle taped to the only unbroken window of an abandoned house in Ithaca NY.
|
155786
|
If I seemed disappointed after our conversation,
then, for the record, that was never the case.
|
155622
|
There's a large tunnel that runs under my house. I can only estimate but it's not deep below the ground and that's what worries me.
|
15562112
|
He would not take Prozac and talked Jesus to her as if from a bucket.
|
155610
|
“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.”
|
155622
|
Jason, the obnoxious host, thrusts his microphone against my nose.
|
155610
|
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.
|
155677
|
To tell the truth, I can’t complain. Look, lots of people have it tough. I don’t have it tough...
|
15562412
|
One can watch the grass green/
in response. One can watch the world green/
in response.
|
155640
|
We’re more into the punishment that works its way in through the skin and coats the heart anonymously.
|
155687
|
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,
|
15562112
|
No twinkle- so, planet, not star./
And bright, so either Venus/
or Jupiter. I’m guessing, Jupiter.
|
155685
|
We will collapse in a storm of images
|
155631
|
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?
|
15551411
|
Tender bodies sizzle on the grill.
|
155560
|
Velvet answered the door in a red leather dress that was made with just about enough material to make a wallet, and looking like a long limbed drink of water calling out to a thirsty man.
|
155564
|
My mother moved her things out of my parents’ bedroom into the attic guest room. When I asked where guests would sleep, my father said, “Matthew, don’t be an asshole.”
|
155542
|
True facts about Redbeard the communist pirate.
|
155554
|
Outside it’s still raining. We’ve gone through three cans of Guinness each. I’m waiting for drunkenness to germinate so that I can take him home and fondle what I imagine will be a very slim dick. A Slim Jim. When I chuckle to myself, he thinks I’m still
|
155532
|
I could smell a bold combination of cheap perfume, stale smoke, and sex excreting from her weathered pores. The bus engine hummed as we climbed a winding road. She scratched her neck and tried to finger comb through her knotted hair. I caught a glimpse of
|
155540
|
When I heard that my brother was going to get married, I was more surprised than anything, but also awed by his courage. Our sister, named Baah Baah during a particularly bad recreational substance binge by our fun-loving, aristocratic parents, Nancy and
|
155553
|
My Aunt's husband liked to dress up like a clown
|
155521
|
...She smells like Mentholadium all the time which is one of them old lady smells. When I get up there, she says, “I’ll scrub the bee jesus out of you little girl,” and by God, I have a purty good bath that day.
|
155532
|
Instead, I get things like,
“Why can’t you find a nice man with cancer or a bum leg?”
|
155576
|
I keep attempting to start a correspondence with people / but they end up not being interested in me, / either that or I scare them away / because I usually begin with: / “Well, my favorite philosopher is Hegel..."
|
1555126
|
because you pay/
for it to matter to me.
|
155575
|
TV and power cord valorized in dust,/
wires and digital guts unimpaired, I’d guess . . .
|
155500
|
Part of me feels like a wounded animal surrounded by hungry cougars. Another part of me feels like being mauled by a cougar might not be that bad. A third part of me wishes he could punch the second part of me in the face.
|
