1563 2 2
|
Jason, the obnoxious host, thrusts his microphone against my nose.
|
156374
|
Mythical Itch and the Unicorns
Working Late
Jacuzzi Floozy
One Erection
Diego Rivera’s Poncho
Frieda’s Moustache
Avalanche
Babushka Dolls
Photographic Mammary
Drool
Sir Gruntsalot
Uber Rubber
Iota Pie
Elder Geese
Ladylike
Rud
|
156377
|
To tell the truth, I can’t complain. Look, lots of people have it tough. I don’t have it tough...
|
156350
|
The dead horse on CNN
was floating there
in the floodwater
|
156300
|
"Nothingness had had enough. Nothingness had become militant. It had bought a camouflage jacket. It grew an afro. It burned its bra. Nothingness was pissed, and it wanted its stuff back."
|
156340
|
We’re more into the punishment that works its way in through the skin and coats the heart anonymously.
|
156387
|
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,
|
156343
|
A story about convincing people to do things they don't want to do, written entirely in dialogue; originally published by CHEAP POP.
|
156331
|
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.
|
156353
|
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.
|
1563139
|
I. he leans his messy head against the walland contemplates his wild mistakeshe discovers a nest of red spidersoutside his rotting basement doorhe watches television in his socksand…
|
156330
|
Blend the dog a drink and sit down beside him and draw straws for regrets.
|
156365
|
in the deep dark of
a 2 a.m. atmosphere
|
156386
|
WANTED: a Muse.
Former Special Forces solider turned poet seeking artistic inspiration. Brunettes preferred but blondes will not be turned away; gingers, however, are out of the question. Must have a voice that sounds like money, a self-destructive tem
|
156261
|
Mr. Wazzeldot has seven legs. He lives very comfortably. He likes to sit by the fire. There's a large cushion for a chair, and in the evenings, he sips his Bloody Marys. I know because I visit him…
|
156295
|
The number is very large/
and perpetually changes//
as old stars fade, explode,/
or collapse into something not stars
|
156220
|
A university student who triggers a flash mob in the heart of Silicon Valley to prove her hacking creds finds herself in deep trouble when the colorful members of Anonymous Hackers prove their hacking creds to her.
|
156232
|
Somniloquies rise like the drowned . . .
|
156297
|
After lunch I left my office and trickled along like a slow leak, a notch above meandering; gravity had become a lateral force that pulled me forward.
|
156232
|
I turned a maiden to a witch / and back again
|
156298
|
"Sara, do you taketh it with your eyes?"
|
156200
|
"Something happens in a magical, soulful part of the heart...and you see YOU. You see yourself."
"I can't look at myself."
|
156243
|
. . . the empiricism of the mechanical had wound tight into her, lessons her few calendars could never impart without aid from sundials, hourglasses, clocks.
|
156200
|
Mint upon my palate, I rub sleep infused eyes and crawl under the covers. Oh blessed sleep, please descend upon this body and transverse this fatigue. Eyes closed, bring a wavering blackness upon subtle lids. The conversation begins…
|
156232
|
Instead, I get things like,
“Why can’t you find a nice man with cancer or a bum leg?”
|
156276
|
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..."
|
15621511
|
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…
|
1562157
|
Mark Reep is a faded Polaroid oracle taped to the only unbroken window of an abandoned house in Ithaca NY.
|
156265
|
Q: What's the best song to sing to your doc before cataract surgery?
A: I Only Have Eyes For You
|
156222
|
Exhausted, weak from the struggle against the personal gift of terrorism delivered by her ex-boyfriend, she died for a few minutes.
|
