1531 4 3
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some days you wake up/ to feel horror/ wrapped beneath your blanket./
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153196
|
New waitress/bartender
draws my attention to
bare ankles and red hair
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153183
|
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
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153155
|
Black bugs are falling, fluttering down
like big, black snow flakes.
Two bugs, almost always,
sometimes only one.
|
153185
|
My grandmother is magnificently breasted in her floor-length nightgown.
|
1531144
|
|
15311210
|
|
153143
|
I still see Big Mama leaning over her garden to pick a zinnia to put in her still life. Her old pink slip, hanging diagonally a foot under her hiked up, ragged, stained dress, half covered by her paint smock, which matched her white, faux fur, bedroom sli
|
1531127
|
|
153195
|
My life was growing on me like a soft Scottish moss
|
153040
|
I had never seen anyone die. For first time in my life, I was afraid, even more than when my step-dad got drunk and roughed me up. When Dale Franklin got shot last year standing on the corner outside the laundry-mat it took the ambulance forty-five minu
|
1530216
|
She hasn't called me in days. Before calling her, I search my memory for something romantic to say. Shakespeare's Sonnet 73 says exactly what I'm thinking. But she doesn't need to hear it. She already knows, as all human efforts come to an end, my core energies are tapering…
|
153053
|
The arrangements of lights on the cracking towers are a segment of Orion’s belt, the handle of the Big Dipper and a section of Andromeda’s spine.
|
153023
|
One of the publishing industry’s dirty little secrets is that first novels sell much better than second novels. So why not enhance your chances for success by calling your second novel your first?
|
153000
|
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
|
153085
|
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.…
|
153065
|
I'm in love with Uzma Goef, a beautiful young woman less than half my age.
|
153022
|
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
|
153032
|
Momma pointed out our paintings on the walls, the signs we had learned, but when Daddy saw our friends, their wheelchairs, braces on their legs, he left...
|
153040
|
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.
|
153031
|
|
153011
|
feet soft as eyelids on the tarmac
|
15301312
|
Times were tough back then. Just a few jobs. This was in the late thirties. It's the story of how Albert hooked up with Iris. Their unlikely meeting took place when they met out on the Highway 61 right-of-way just outside of Natchez, Mississippi, each trying to hitch…
|
153000
|
"Oh — what is this 'work' thing the philosophers speak of" sort of thing.
|
1529107
|
I have known a head become / a callus, matriculate, stop / shaving, move to Vegas
|
152922
|
I am a human resource, batteries not included
|
15291613
|
A woman with fallen breasts is attempting to hang her laundry on a string. Two tall men mount horses and ride them into the meadow. A squad of children wrap themselves around a playground.
|
152922
|
|
152922
|
Her memory was a faded pastiche of the past, and indeed the present sat uneasily in the middle of the dreams that governed her mind; so it was that often she would forget the day, the time, the year.
|
152940
|
“I’m making a dress,” she said, feeding the pages through the sewing machine.
He didn’t know how to answer. “Are those my books?”
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