1563 3 1
|
It's been like that of late. One bad beat after another. I used to hold all the cards, kick some ass, be rolling in it and buying the Crystal at Birdland for all my special ladies. Now I can't get in without a steep cover and my markers are no good in the
|
1563 6 4
|
I wrote this piece after I told the originator of the youtube video "Mieders Alpine Coaster" by David Jellis how I felt watching it.
I admitted I was a voyeur not a participant, but that his video fascinated me to the point that I needed to write ab
|
1563 3 1
|
I am calling to tell you what’s going to happen tomorrow.
|
1562 13 11
|
He sat at the bar and waited for her. He looked at the noon drinkers with indifferent eyes.
|
1562 3 2
|
In retrospect, we should have been a cult.
|
1562 11 6
|
Is this a place to show posterity and mortality?
|
1562 10 9
|
I ran into Tanya at “Pearl's” — maybe it was still called “Big Balls” — over in the Stockyards (Ft. Worth) in '72 and right up front we both admitted to loving honky-tonks and “done me wrong” songs which is why we were there…
|
1562 11 10
|
My father bouncing his leg to slow rock music with me on one knee, telling me I should keep a special place in my heart for my teeth, to remember where I lose them, on the playground like he did when he was my age, fighting a friend named Bobby-Joe. Or else I could lose…
|
1562 3 2
|
|
1562 0 0
|
“You look strangely familiar,” he said, taking a drink and swinging his leg over the horse, landing on the ground beside me ...
|
1562 4 0
|
As part of an online writers ”interview” series, I decided to deviate a little from the norm and do my first interview with our housecat, while I await my first ever conversation with an actual human.
|
1562 5 5
|
Black bugs are falling, fluttering down
like big, black snow flakes.
Two bugs, almost always,
sometimes only one.
|
1562 7 4
|
Each memory of Fall reminds me of the harvest; Surely this is not a thought to turn the thought of dying. Black the turning point, there is a glint at the tip of the wing: Perhaps it rises from its cinders as I wish when I was waning, …
|
1562 1 0
|
Marissa sat on her knees placing her hand on Alysia’s head. Her eyes held back her tears as she watched her daughter’s eyes shift back and forth.
|
1562 5 4
|
before your full lips touch
mine.
|
1562 2 1
|
The Syringimals were filled to their 60 ml capacity with a gelatinous ocher blood. They fluttered around using sparkly wings stolen from Disney fairies, and attempted language through wax lips that were usually secured with scotch tape.
|
1562 5 5
|
Cockroaches in bed was the last straw. Alicia was sure she’d swallowed one in the middle of the night . . .
|
1562 7 7
|
And a delicacy
in the right regrets.
|
1562 3 1
|
When Carlton Hanks bought the house on the corner of Annunciation and General Pershing, right next to St. Anthony’s Catholic Church, he believed that he’d live in peace.
|
1561 4 0
|
After sportscasters announced the assassination and while the reverberations of the words were still fading people were already shouting
|
1561 7 8
|
Sulawesi-Kalosi brews bitter and watery without proper care.
|
1561 12 12
|
I'm walking you / through Pere Lachaise
|
1561 2 1
|
Mutiny is the last I remember.
|
1561 0 0
|
The old man moved on an automatic wheelchair. He stopped just short of Sora. He waited for her to move, but all she did was shed one tear.
|
1561 6 4
|
I allow myself one hour every two weeks. Devoting 335 of my 336 hours to her and the kids is beyond dutiful.
|
1561 14 0
|
“I was just dreaming about you,” he said, sleepy-voiced. “What's for breakfast?”
|
1561 7 7
|
I’m decades in and it hasn’t gone away.
In all other respects, I am normal. Life
is hard, but I’m not complaining. The thing
is, I am in a constant state of falling.
|
1561 0 0
|
My face in your face The light in your eyes Dancing and twirling Growing, alive A hall of mirrors reflecting me Shards of glass Silver and black Injure and cut Years of bad luck A hall of mirrors protecting me Wrinkles and bags Time's been unkind Disease and…
|
1561 1 1
|
Charlie's recurring fantasy emerged from its hiding spot as he finished his fourth Old Fashioned. He'd be on his back; she'd be astride him. A strong, assertive young woman with her hands planted on his chest and her hair falling forward over her face.
|
1561 13 11
|
Enough, Trump. We've had it my dear, with your pink ties, your hairs, your swagger, your towers, your money, tempers, walls, bombs, smarts, snarls, pouts and doubts, bigotty bile, and once again, style. We just…
|