1531 17 9
|
A young girl wavering between celibacy and punk mother-lust despair came to visit us each night
|
153194
|
These philosophic notions floated in my head for years and eventually helped inspire my pursuit of basic information in contemporary physics, astrophysics, astronomy, and cosmology when I was not reading or writing fiction or verse.
|
1531127
|
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…
|
153164
|
Too often, Calvin's willful head finds its way into his hands.
|
153122
|
People questioned my motives when I became a smokejumper again. They said I had a death wish, or that somehow by going into battle against the big Pacific Northwest forest fires, I was still trying to put out the flames of the burning car in which my sons Jake (age…
|
1531115
|
There are no inspirations./
There are only the things I like/
and the much more numerous//
things I do not like.
|
153111
|
years later, she won’t go near the trees
|
153111
|
our eyes misted white as goatskin
|
153100
|
The day Eugene told me his secret he gave me a bouquet of lilies. Ice clung to the petals like fuzz. Sorry about the frost, he said. That was an accident.
|
153144
|
I chose coming away because here at least I feel good — and it makes me feel I am growing very tall and straight inside — and very still — Maybe you will not love me for it — but for me it seems to be the best…
|
153132
|
She turned him down again. Said it was her insomnia. She was so tired, she said, she had to work in the morning, and why couldn't he understand that? She rolled over facing away from him. He sat up in bed, thinking. When was the last time? Three months ago? Four? He…
|
153121
|
Grady Quail wondered why God didn't just have another son
|
153053
|
It's 2am. The wind is moving at speed, whipping gently the tree branches, and their leaves rustle simultaneously to create a audible sound, like hands flipping through sheets of paper, or that feeling you get on your fingertips when going across a textured surface. I'm…
|
153065
|
He stops smiling and only
says he loves me when prompted,
as if asking me to pass the salt
for his inner peace as it tastes too bland.
|
153000
|
One cold winter's day she met what she thought was the love of her life. He had everything going for him but his age. You see the sweet young thing was a lot younger than her. One might say that she had lived many lives before he had been born.
|
153011
|
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.
|
153021
|
|
153000
|
Randy stood in the alley behind Krasnowski Construction with a loaded gun shoved down the front of his pants. His friend Todd was inside, unloading the safe. And when Todd walked out the door, Randy was going to shoot him in the face.
|
1530121
|
Henry Ground was a healthy and well adjusted English man who excelled at chess and folk dancing. One day, for no apparent reason, he decided to fill his guinea pig with helium. He carried the animal under the light of the stars into the shed at the bottom of his garden.…
|
153063
|
That is a pretty damning statement.
|
153044
|
It was one of those weekday mornings in early spring when Marjorie and I could wander from chapel to chapter house with only security guards for company.
|
153011
|
"So, how did you know my name?"
"I read memories." i said
|
153054
|
If you can imagine a ghost taking a shower then you can imagine the kind of emotion I have in mind.
|
15301610
|
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…
|
153075
|
The nerves are birds that guide us to feeling the loop and lift of reverie.
|
1530146
|
|
153064
|
You borrow words from platforms you could never build
Borrow morals from a party gone sour
|
153061
|
The old man is dead,
body propped in its cart
like the dead El Cid
strapped on his horse by Jimena
to save Valencia,
and yet...
|
153000
|
"Oh — what is this 'work' thing the philosophers speak of" sort of thing.
|
1529119
|
All else is unmoved/
and relentless in its indifference.
|
