1405 4 4
|
Betrayal of course is the great human crime. As I found out when . . . .
|
140511
|
There is no cement stronger than the one holding a miserable couple together.
|
140572
|
This is what it is to feel yourself forget.
|
140500
|
My tongue kept me from fitting in with the latinos. I understood little Spanish and spoke even less. No one really believed I was Mexican, and they kept me at a distance.
Or maybe I kept them at a distance. Living with
|
140522
|
Starry, Starry Night
we slept, talked and did the nasty
where I, in innocence once
built a raft of driftwood
to take me twenty miles across
to the shore from which we ferried
escaping my Father’s demise
|
140566
|
It's really not too bad. The personI am was me. We laughed insidethose sacred places at all the monieswell spent. We walked in the gardenswithout any shoes on. Not one singleflower seemed to mind. And now it'sa forgotten mess or so I've imagined.I'd rather you think about…
|
140577
|
"We're practicing," she signs, "for an earthquake."
|
1405106
|
Eight days before her 50th birthday they were married in their soft new pajamas, holding hands on his bed in the hospital. The pastor and witnesses wore protective hospital gowns and gloves; the patient was in isolation once again. A special dispensation from the head…
|
1405144
|
|
1405139
|
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…
|
140543
|
Soon, out of the womb ‘down there' is nuance. It guides you, like a legality, like your own breathing, in and out of overtone, hardcore hodgepodges, those inklings near sacrosanct beyond breakfront negligees and neo-negligence leading the good life. Isn't it…
|
140521
|
They could cram Rob inside the trunk and then drop him somewhere in the dingles.
|
140431
|
My dad was an Army Reservist stationed in the U.S.—New York and Texas—the bugler in his corps. He golfed on summer weekends at Hazeltine in the course of his career. I had seen houses water colored prettily within the lines on L.S.D., after noticing not
|
1404149
|
Pain is the saddle which rides me
Pain is the cowboy's gun
More morphing, please!
|
140431
|
There was a hole in my tooth. It wouldn't let anything go.
|
140400
|
1. HeWomen's heads turned when Remy stopped in the doorway — as they always did. He noticed — as he always did — but paid no attention as he scanned the room. Too nervy to care. No sign of Fiona. Good. It paid to be the one doing the…
|
140455
|
They were everywhere walking right above us or so it seemed, back and forth, back and forth with their lousy, crunching heels making hollow chewed up noises that took all the sweet sounds left on earth and had them march along…
|
140400
|
Welcome to the genocide city zone I'm sure you'll enjoy your stay We've been killing folks here All the live-long day If you want to join us You'll have to pay the price Your soul's the cost, so ante up C'mon and shoot the dice Welcome to the genocide city zone …
|
140400
|
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…
|
14042112
|
No twinkle- so, planet, not star./
And bright, so either Venus/
or Jupiter. I’m guessing, Jupiter.
|
140411
|
Sleep left him like a fragmenting illusion. Suddenly, he was awake, like something pressing but fleeting had awoken him. Once awake, though, all he had was silence and stillness. His pulse quickened, his…
|
140421
|
"In the grave my lips will still be moving."
|
140452
|
Roy Carver owned a big tire retreading outfit over on the Mississippi.
|
140463
|
. . . music and dance, theatrical performance of tragedies and comedies . . . a primeval orientation, celebrating the cultivation of herbs and vines . . . ritualistic use of intoxicants, to remove inhibitions, to liberate participants . . .
|
140477
|
The light on his face from a lamp,
felt hat with a black band scrunched down,
the light on his face as though thrown there,
the nose creating a strong shadow,
with dark, straight eyebrows under the hat,
red and orange beard.
Leaning forwar
|
140431
|
I am calling to tell you what’s going to happen tomorrow.
|
140453
|
Dear Ray Bradbury, yesterday
was my thirteenth birthday, and I could not stop thinking of the
Mennonite girl in the milkwhite bonnet,
the squint of her eye, the twitch of her anxious finger on the trigger,
sudden holes bloomi
|
140340
|
blueberry tea and vodka on a Friday night
|
140342
|
Light youth
that
barely touches the
ground
|
140321
|
|
