1396 10 7
|
I have known a head become / a callus, matriculate, stop / shaving, move to Vegas
|
1396106
|
She was washing the dishes in the sink, (you're not going to start with a pronoun, are you? Give her a name, for God's sake!) Kate was washing dishes in the sink, (where the hell else is she going to wash dishes? In a creek?) Kate was washing dishes (was…
|
139676
|
My drunk friend is built like a hastily packed trash bag; full of lumps and portending very dark things.
|
139600
|
She didn't want to let go of the crumpled tissue she had been holding all this time, as it is wrong to litter, but she finally did, and felt free. Released. Bad. Naughty. Almost orgasmic.
|
1396106
|
I'm using a 16mm motion picture camera with sound on film, equipped with a magazine holding six hundred feet, giving me approximately fifteen minutes of continuous shooting. Uzma has changed her cloths again. She's dressed for working in the garden, wearing a white…
|
139622
|
Someone set a pig aflame.
|
13961210
|
"S- E- X -- ever heard of it?"
|
139622
|
The Fourth Defenestration took place in September of that year, and it became an instant internet sensation. Mostly because of the fall from great heights into an enormous pile of haufen mist, arranged by a bunch of henchmen pals of Boris and Vladimir
|
139696
|
New waitress/bartender
draws my attention to
bare ankles and red hair
|
139675
|
On a trail, Richard and I came upon a saguaro cactus that had dried in the shape of a human figure. Its arms were lifted and its back was stooped. I said, “It looks like my mother.”
|
139612
|
A possum sits on a fence. The fence is downtown in a not-very-big town. Hard to say about possums and fences; this is not the first possum to sit on a fence. Once, during a suburban backyard party a possum sat on a fence and observed. Before long he could walk more…
|
139632
|
It was the coward's way out, to commit suicide. And yet, one had to be brave to attempt it.
|
139643
|
It's none of my business,
where Carl puts his prick.
But I know one thing;
Them Bohunk women go to pot quick.
|
139622
|
But when the KGB went out the castle window, what a surprise was waiting for them. Because we had lined the pit with a huge dung heap, and camouflaged it with a colored pink wrapping as if it were feathers, just like Cristo had done. We wrapped the shit p
|
139663
|
SapphicsSlumber comes too late to scare awakening; I know, before, there was a life to bind me. I cross the streets instead and watch the rainfall Murmur without ears. It can know no sound but seems…
|
1395136
|
They often leave me dulled/
and wanting back my time.
|
139566
|
Okay, so it's not exactly the lost art of sweeping anything away . For the sad fact that no one searing Love endures just for us. Brown, folded Petals, yellows buttered over petals, I do not Wait to see if the floating moon Can at…
|
139511
|
Methuselah. That’s what they call him, the regulars that ride my train. Other things too, but Methuselah is the one that sticks in my mind. It seems to fit. It’s not as cruel.
|
139555
|
I am a buttress against chaos. And now I am turning yellow.
|
139553
|
Don reports everything to Uzma and Rasheed, I'm aware of that. It doesn't bother me. I'm not hiding anything from them or anyone else.
|
139500
|
The Kid, The Executive, The Doctor, and The Actress.
|
139596
|
|
139531
|
|
13951210
|
It's gone too long since her Robby Sherwood's dreams rose through the tenement chimney into pear-sweet clouds. Once was he planned histories, carried herself over slopes of hesitations to the night meadow, soft-skinned and whispered. Her man shouldered…
|
139545
|
The stick had a head and a face and a swirling robe, all etched in wood.
It was the 14th Dalai Lama.
|
139555
|
For I would draw a diagramTo signify the things I amBut I think you know--Todd Rundgren The door was opened before me. I know that's not a good way to start out on an adventure, but it is what happened to me. I didn't see any beckoning light, I felt a crazy urge, like…
|
1395125
|
The moon poured more/
light into the sky/
yet we kept on talking
|
139564
|
Saturday afternoons: tartan blanket spread on the pebble beach, transistor radio hissing static, fish paste sandwiches and seagulls. Why fish paste, Mum? She didn't dare ask.
|
1395107
|
"But is it politically correct?" he asked. "Oh, yes," said Hank. "It's all the rage."
|
139560
|
A needle passed through my lungs. My breathing made the needle pierce deeper. I felt anger rise up within me but I determined not to cry. – I had cried enough. No more tears. Arossi looked at me, probably expecting me to cry. I didn’t
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