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This story* is brought to you by
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Many hours to make a brick: many bricks to make a curve.
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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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When you're scared to write badly, that's when you write. You are probably trying to tell the truth.
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When you see him, you'll know.That's what the prophecy was. Well, part of it, at least. The prophecy that Tabitha was to be the next Earth mother. That when she saw her partner, she would know. Keith, and his mission partner, and the elders, they had made it so. Made it…
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He reacted as if I had sprinkled holy water upon his furnaces.
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George was the biggest coward alive. But he was too afraid to admit it. But that therein was his cowardice. He couldn't face the truth. He couldn't face his weakness. It made him uncomfortable, the thought that he might need to change.
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People Who Go to Poems for Truth
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I rifled through the bedside table until I found dirty magazines
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He sits, a large man with a walrus mustache, pondering a gold telegraph key.
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I sat in the dark, mashing damp sand like clumps of brown sugar into my palm while the heavy Gulf air blew my hair into ropes. Sometimes I worried that I was unable to need people, but, as much as the thought upset me, I couldn't make myself truly want t
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When he was certain he was ready, he set out. The journey was arduous for a man of his years. Yet, he seemed to spring to it, like a dog to a bone. Maybe like a lion to it's prey; mostly in the best way possible for a man such as he.
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No twinkle- so, planet, not star./
And bright, so either Venus/
or Jupiter. I’m guessing, Jupiter.
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His grandmother's recipe called for the pasta dough to be beaten with a bone--and not just any bone either. It had to be a human femur. This was his first hurdle. Where would he get such a thing at this hour in this part of town? Or, for that matter, at any…
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Jean-Pierre and Azure watched the security guards running around the building yelling, and Jane grabbed Azure’s arm while holding the radio.
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she thinks she looks good in her short red dress, black makeup around her eyes, last night's lipstick a slap of crimson on her cheek.
"like this," she says, holding the hammer above her head.
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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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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.
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"In the grave my lips will still be moving."
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My uncle lived part-time in prison, in a cell with a blanket, pillow, and towel. The remainder of his days he lived in a small house on Prospect Street.
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sometimes i have to be in the other room
just so i can breathe easy away from you.
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i am either lacerated /or ill at ease / continually subject to gusts of life
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Life is easier for the handsome. /
They are more pleasant to deal with.
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14281110
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Paris is a great place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there.
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You're so insecure; you probably think this story is about you.Well, you would be right.
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After the ship stopped shaking, the angry flashes of warning lights discontinued, a few people could be heard sobbing or whispering prayers.
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I allow myself one hour every two weeks. Devoting 335 of my 336 hours to her and the kids is beyond dutiful.
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When his wife left him, a friend told him that resentments were like canceled checks. You weren't going to get your money back.
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They were working on the factory floor when they died, the auspices of mayhem filtering out to a host of ravens gleaning the neighboring fields. Clouds of them fled the scene around the time of the incident turning the day into twilight…
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