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This story* is brought to you by
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Lavender, a Liberal Betty, batty from hormones, in a fanciful fit, named her daughter Lavender. Husband Don winced. Brothers Donald, John, Billy, and Tom were puzzled and pleased by this sister, this girl, who was a little bit like them, yet not like them at…
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Listening is loving.
What is more erotic than
these fathoms, skeins, words,
roping tight the ardent ear.
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If we go back in time
We are living in tents
If we go back in time
We are living in caves
We are fighting over rivers
We are fighting over fields
Near the soft edges of slime
If we go back in time
Nothing would have us
And we had t
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160053
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Most times a vertical word balloon floats before him.
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160065
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Mice dreams are a reality ...
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159900
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Everyone gathered around Karin with the Mana Spirits. She wrapped her arms around her waist, staring at the ground.
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The new king hunted often. We heard her whirring above, the terrible whirring a forest of—, and she drifted over our city half dangling from the chopper, rifle barrel glinting.
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theme songs for concentration camps!?
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She has dwindled for the better part of a year, staved off her period, breasts and hips like a warrior. Chestnut strands that danced along candy apple cheeks now surrender to metal pins, her bun severe as an old maid's. Her prominent ears…
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gravel coughing up tires at 90 miles an hour
and just getting under way
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I know who done it. Them goddamn taters. I walked around the yard and started picking up pieces of the camaro, wondering if, from above, they’d laid the parts out into some kinda cult symbols or something.
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I am not covetous for catnip,
Nor care where I sleep at night.
It irks me not who takes my
Favorite chair, or swats me off a table.
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The car was a two-tone black and white Chevy...
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159953
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Either it was rescue--if the customer was alive to be found--or recovery, the term for bringing out the dead.
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When Carol complained about a pain in her back, Frank didn't think much about it. Her back—especially her shoulders—hurt most of the time he'd known her, almost fifteen years, from sitting in front of a computer all day. It was an old story. “But …
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‘It's perfect,' said Maggie as she lay in the casket. Harold Barnes offered his hand. ‘It's a shame he never got to see it,' Maggie continued as she climbed free of the coffin.
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We came to the dump at dusk to shoot rats.
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The nerves are birds that guide us to feeling the loop and lift of reverie.
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I packed food for a lifetime, clothes and boots, all the guns, and the audio of our poetry...
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Look around you, see what you have built.
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He is an exercise in humility:What I cannot have or be. The chances of our meetingand his perfection are darkly astronomical. There are plenty of otherswhose riches I cannot have,why envy him?We are similar in spritbut have different fortunes.It is unfair and…
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159932
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Boil (n.)––1. Pus-filled pustule inflammation of the skin, usually painful. 2. Slang boiled pus, bucket of (n. phrase)“Your asshole brain is a bucket of boiled pus.” (see also pus, SCOTTISH derogatory term for face.
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The woman lit a cigarette and sat on the edge of the bed, crossing one leg over the other. She took a long drag, tilted her head back, paused. Her eyes flicked to the NO…
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159842
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There was this old guy named Ned. He swept floors. No one knew much about him. He'd been around for years sweeping the concrete floors of the hangar-sized buildings that housed the major mechanical service departments at an old amusement park.
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Quantum transport rearranges grandma.
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The summer I turned fourteen I wanted a job so I could start saving for a car. Actually, I had a job, but it wasn't much. Seventy-five cents…
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