1599 3 3
|
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.
|
159952
|
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.
|
1599127
|
The abundances of age/
are of commodities/
no known demographic values:
|
159953
|
Either it was rescue--if the customer was alive to be found--or recovery, the term for bringing out the dead.
|
159962
|
Your usage of the English language / is awkward and passé—
|
1599138
|
The bathroom faucet is leaking again. Do they make diapers for faucets?
|
159900
|
Azure felt tired of all her problems remain unresolved, and she felt this was a good opportunity to get one out of the way.
|
159955
|
The baby will not stop crying.
He’s been crying for three hours straight.
I’m the worst mother ever.
What kind of mother can’t soothe her own baby?
The bad kind.
|
159945
|
Don’t break things, I add. And he looks at me like I’ve broken everything else.
|
159900
|
‘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.
|
159955
|
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
|
15991710
|
I packed food for a lifetime, clothes and boots, all the guns, and the audio of our poetry...
|
159932
|
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.
|
159842
|
theme songs for concentration camps!?
|
1598127
|
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…
|
159842
|
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.
|
159895
|
The car was a two-tone black and white Chevy...
|
159830
|
Quantum transport rearranges grandma.
|
159831
|
|
159832
|
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…
|
159832
|
Lama’s mother is dead. She died when Lama was just outgrowing her ballet tutus. When Lama talks about it, it is with the air of one who picks honeysuckle over jasmine. It gives sunshine, she says, to graves. Our epitaphs are so mechanical otherwise.
Un
|
1598910
|
|
1598119
|
Listening is loving.
What is more erotic than
these fathoms, skeins, words,
roping tight the ardent ear.
|
159843
|
We came to the dump at dusk to shoot rats.
|
159875
|
The nerves are birds that guide us to feeling the loop and lift of reverie.
|
1598146
|
|
15981010
|
I take her to the zoo, and the tigers get out. The little tigers, I mean. Cubs. Two of them.
|
159751
|
4th of July weekend, Woodland canyon, summer heat like the Garden of Eden, lush, green, secluded. She lay by the creek in a lounge chair under dappled shade from the sycamore trees, listening to the frogs jump and the birds sing, admiring the orange tiger lilies that…
|
159744
|
Once or twice, it was only once or twice. Three times, if I really count. And I wasn't giving or loving. And my self stayed hidden and I kept most of my clothes on.
|
1597106
|
gravel coughing up tires at 90 miles an hour
and just getting under way
|
