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Bill Watterson isn't just the creator of the world's best comic strip. According to the book “Looking for Calvin and Hobbes,” a biography of the elusive and reclusive cartoonist, Watterson is also a world-class introvert. Watterson refuses to make…
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The snap of a broken heart is exactly One second longer than this poem is going To be when it finishes up being said . The snap Of a broken heart is unlike anything that Cartwheels out of sync with the rest of Us truly lucky ones. The broken snap of a …
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Many years later, as the smell of charring straw filled the basket she was standing in, high above faces turned upwards to watch her fly, she remembered the night her fingertips brushed snow off the Alps.
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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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Much as the cockerel crows the break of day/ So, too, has our love similar herald,
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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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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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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…
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The Girl with a typewriter mouthhas a body like a single sheet of blank white paper. I wasobsessed with the Beatles, she tellsme. Well, there are worse things to beobsessed with, I tell her. No, shesays, I mean REALLY obsessed. Oh,is all I can think to reply to…
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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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You said it looked like I could use some dietary counseling and rolled your eyes. I was too tired to be a smart-ass and just smirked. If you'd like to offer advice in person, reply here.
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He came to a spot on the edge of the strawberry fields where he liked to sit with his brother and watch the turkey buzzards circle overhead
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On shingle of seashells &
Bullet shells,
Ghosts drift along the shore
Of the Black Sea.
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My vagina invites you to a party
Whenever your time frees up
Or now,
Now would be better
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Let's make a monetary enticement for writers who can revel in the magnitude of this tragedy...
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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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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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Snakes have no eyelids, no hips, no lobby in Washington (some creatures do!) and little support at home.
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142122
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There's a large tunnel that runs under my house. I can only estimate but it's not deep below the ground and that's what worries me.
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papaya over-ripe displayed on the half
with spoons sticking out -
” very ripe, tastes good “
blue crabs cooked with lavender
i was sniffing a spoonful when the chef came out
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142133
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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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In retrospect, we should have been a cult.
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His daddy died in his sleep. Went to bed one might and never got up.
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Is this a place to show posterity and mortality?
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I rifled through the bedside table until I found dirty magazines
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Downton Abbey and The Beverly Hillbillies. They're practically the same show.
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They look like amateur beavers, all twenty-seven of them on their knees, gnawing through frosting bark. My wife is taking notes on a huge purple flower, listening to the kids as they shout out what tree corresponds to what flavor.
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