1635 8 7
|
in their hunt for desires not felt on either side of the crescent /
called Gowanus
|
163544
|
I assume the shape of a pronoun.
|
163553
|
My Aunt's husband liked to dress up like a clown
|
163552
|
"I found a grey pubic hair the other day."
|
16351510
|
The Plaza had a chess-board floor, green wood booths, and the lights stayed up. I might be combining a memory of Fitzie's in Binghamton. The Plaza felt like a preppy soda fountain with beer.
|
16341210
|
|
163422
|
|
163447
|
Early on, I looked for work; I walked the want-ad trail. Shuttle-driver, apartment leasing expert, laundry technician, account executive, PHP developer, dog sitter, sleep study subject – I would do anything that seemed steady.
|
163444
|
Betrayal of course is the great human crime. As I found out when . . . .
|
163455
|
How the hell do these 1/8 inch long red-eyed flying insects wind up in my kitchen anyway?
|
163474
|
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…
|
163494
|
When it starts looking bad enough, I bundle up and head out the door.
|
163483
|
I was talking to this famous female artist
at the reception, (as if I knew anything,)
“If you want to be taken as a serious artist now,
you have to have one long serious eyebrow.”
There was no reaction. So, I said:
“Also, you should kn
|
163440
|
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.
|
163455
|
Black bugs are falling, fluttering down
like big, black snow flakes.
Two bugs, almost always,
sometimes only one.
|
163485
|
1I'VE BEEN looking though books of paintings and I've been thinking …
|
163433
|
In a dazzle of emerald softness, it flew out into the breeze wanting for the red apple in the tree just outside my window. The power had gone out, spare change to total meltdown, and the air inside was stifling, thick with mind-numbing languor and mosquitoes. So I…
|
163486
|
Although I think we can easily work it out because we are not here in the Yale graduate school, and diction is the theme of the story. Diction is a choice in language.
|
1633105
|
Two types coexist- the sanguine/
and exsanguinated./
My skin is cool/
and pale as moonlight
|
1633117
|
respect your parents. or not.
stay put. or not.
finish school. or not.
get married. or not.
stay married. or not.
|
16331211
|
a human hand/
looks sadly/
naked now
|
1633146
|
He hates this body no less now/
than he did at 14 for its pudginess/
and the hair that can’t conform
|
163344
|
In my dreams I am cremated in the burning Library of Alexandria.
|
163311
|
These were the kind of days children dreamed of. A warm sun shone over Coronado, California. December weather on the island did not prevent outside play. The wind off the bay remained soft, even if chilled. Church let out early. There was time to pla
|
163398
|
Like the swift night-black blue of a cormorant as it suddenly dips into a rush of white cold water,eyeing its possible food, we too sweepdown on what we think we see, rising wet sometimes with the reward,or hapless, dripping, we try again.
|
163343
|
The snow buzzes in the Ritalin air beneath Dairy Queen clouds
|
163321
|
...She smells like Mentholadium all the time which is one of them old lady smells. When I get up there, she says, “I’ll scrub the bee jesus out of you little girl,” and by God, I have a purty good bath that day.
|
163300
|
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
|
163385
|
What fascinates me now is now, this instant, this moment. This fugitive, this delinquent, this indiscreet, this forever elusive now. Now now. Now is now and now it is not now. Now is the adversary of time.…
|
163300
|
Yes, my old uncle liked roses. Grew them. He had a way of smelling a rose—after he smelled a rose, you are surprised the rose is still there.
|
