1649 8 7
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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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164922
|
" I have no idea what's goin on out here, and I'm gonna find out one way or another."
|
164965
|
I stole forth dimly in the dripping pause
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164995
|
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.
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164900
|
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.
|
164998
|
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…
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16491814
|
The phone rings. The oven beeps./
The locomotive whistles and howls.
|
164986
|
If I seemed disappointed after our conversation,
then, for the record, that was never the case.
|
164821
|
Forgetting her inhibitions, she dove for him.
|
164800
|
"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."
|
164820
|
The sighs of the nearby shore came to me through an open window.Wave after gentle wave caressed her broad, sand crusted skin. Mesmerized, I lay still.The in out sound of breathing now filled the room.Your warmth enveloping me like the satin…
|
164843
|
. . . the empiricism of the mechanical had wound tight into her, lessons her few calendars could never impart without aid from sundials, hourglasses, clocks.
|
1648129
|
anxiety
said Kierkegaard
is the dizziness
of freedom
|
164853
|
The arrangements of lights on the cracking towers are a segment of Orion’s belt, the handle of the Big Dipper and a section of Andromeda’s spine.
|
164854
|
The coin, so little, the watch chain, the youth, the fading softening speech, each hand and finger, the panic modeled on your own eyes, the ashtray, certain stumps along the way, the long distance, the odd feather, the jazz rope gone,…
|
1648158
|
She is too stylish to be crazy, is what the migrant probably thinks. And he's right.
|
164877
|
It’s so uncomfortable being an Angel in a sack
|
1648127
|
|
164822
|
Suppose Eve, strolling through the sunlit Garden, had not stumbled on that particular Tree at all, the wily serpent twined in its lower branches?
|
164764
|
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.”
|
164733
|
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.
|
164732
|
"Why, before the summer has passed
You won’t remember her name. . ."
|
164752
|
I walk through nameless
streets, narrow and winding,
past shops selling scarves,
spices, skins.
|
1647116
|
W here do you think you're going
what'll you think you'll do
running down this highway
that you never even knew
|
164745
|
Art books, paintings, antique chairs, marble tables, full length gold gilded mirrors, oriental rugs, tapestries, a Louis XVI painted French armoire, a wrought iron Deco coffee table, flat ware, silver flasks, mantel lamps, iron gates, a silk settee, theat
|
1647106
|
|
164730
|
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.
|
16471710
|
my family's Scottish heritage
|
164786
|
The drop is like a hangman's drop, an executioner's, but farther and longer, perhaps three or four seconds.
|
164700
|
I was looking for an inn to get a cup of calf soup before jacking ribs at the mutton joint. Feng calls, running numbers on an engine zone out in the valley.
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