1540 0 0
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The Kid, The Executive, The Doctor, and The Actress.
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154011
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Her cash. It smelled like seven-dollar-a-quart gardenia perfume and cave aged cheese—like hope overgrown with mildew.
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154033
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I contemplate the words that did not make it; the lost ones. The words deprived of their moment in the sun. These words. These words that are not part of the story.
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154041
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Just beyond the tree, beyond the fence, close to the grey clouds that hung almost to the earth, a boy sat on another tree's stump. Beneath his crossed legs that he moved up and down rhythmically, under his bright red, Superman shorts, inscribed in the stump, a symbol which…
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1540128
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"Check out these dudes,” he says. “They're all wearing kilts. Not that there's anything wrong with that, as long as they're wearing underwear.
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154030
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Blend the dog a drink and sit down beside him and draw straws for regrets.
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154075
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o christ/ here you are again/ you sickness appearing in my brain/ pouring smog from my jaw/ my body hot and cold as though sleepless/ while i could sleep/ centuries/ undisturbed/ and awaken, tireder still./
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153985
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Today clouds were dancing on the moon
Moon had a fit but drew in a breath
And let out a sigh
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153960
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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.
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153910
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“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.”
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153998
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"Sara, do you taketh it with your eyes?"
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153933
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When John wakes up, the first thing he does is run a bath, because his shower is broken, and while the bath is running he gets his breakfast ready.
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153943
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. . . the empiricism of the mechanical had wound tight into her, lessons her few calendars could never impart without aid from sundials, hourglasses, clocks.
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153932
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“Life is on life’s terms,” she told me once. Her arm, wrapped in clear cellophane, was freshly adorned with a green-pigmented sand-dollar: a living shell.
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1539108
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153900
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One minute Rudy was sitting up close to me, asking me how could Geppetto make a little boy out of a piece of wood, and the next, Steve was pounding up the stairs, yelling, "Carla, get blankets, warm clothes; we're leaving, we won't be back."
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153942
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The following is a true story, or rather it is a true experience from the story of my life. Some say that just because something happens doesn’t really make it “true”.
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1539158
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She is too stylish to be crazy, is what the migrant probably thinks. And he's right.
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153952
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Hissing through the opening, the spirits have no place.
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153921
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A person is entitled to what she thinks and feels. A person can have all the thoughts and feelings she wants.
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153975
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I am no different to her, living seven days ahead
of myself, looking forward to looking back,
as we Irish do so fondly
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153985
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We will collapse in a storm of images
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153930
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153800
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Two angels walk in a dark cloud arm in arm
discussing the nature of good and evil
Walking along in flowing robes now that nakedness
is forgot, and they both stare at the same eternal thought
with their heads bowed as serenity is the only thing
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153822
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Tomorrow, they'd bury their daughter . . . and still, so many questions. Why would a beautiful fourteen-year-old choose for herself such a horrible, painful death? In life, she appeared the antithesis of suicidal ideation: excellent grades, well-liked in school and…
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153884
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It’s just that—well, I don’t know how to put this—
With a Dadaist poet a non-affair is the height of erotic bliss.
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153820
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You held my hand when I hit the ground and told me the shakes would start soon.
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153821
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Father hands Billy a length of rope. Billy builds his resolve, fights back his tears, heads into the kitchen. It's time to become a man.
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15381110
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That won’t kill me, will it? I asked. Maybe, the doctor said.
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153853
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Buyers of freelance writing have a well-deserved reputation for responding slowly, thereby increasing your pleasure in much the same way that the Pointer Sisters longed for a slow hand.
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