1586 3 2
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I climb up on the sofa and stand next to him. I smell something.
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158683
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A Beatles haircut and loose Khaki painters overalls rendered the child sexless. He or she walked over to Hugh’s side and standing tiptoe peered into the casket. She, for Hugh had determined it was a girl, stroked the silk lining.
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158553
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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…
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1585157
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The steady sound of shoveling for the past three hours would have woken her, should have made her come to the window...
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158511
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of Jim Beam when I was maybe fifteen. Or anyway old enough to admire the lesson.
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1585106
|
gravel coughing up tires at 90 miles an hour
and just getting under way
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158500
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The cubs from every Clan shivered at his snarl. The Elder’s presence was overwhelming, and level of pressure pressing down upon them.
|
158554
|
My wife says you can tell the crooks from the cops from the cowboys at the taco truck across the street.
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158554
|
We sat up in bed. It's two o'clock in the morning. Blinding circular flashlight beams probe through the half pulled shades. Magnified black silhouettes of men's torsos lumber back and forth in the yard. We are in a fishbowl and being invaded.
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1585115
|
His grandmother's recipe called for the pasta dough to be beaten with a bone--and not just any bone either. It had to be a human femur. This was his first hurdle. Where would he get such a thing at this hour in this part of town? Or, for that matter, at any…
|
1585137
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Don and I return to Rasheed's room on the top floor of the middle house where Uzma sits waiting to speak her piece. I'm feeling blessed listening to their enthusiastic chatter. It's like the world is opening up to me again, allowing me to experience a rush of…
|
158565
|
I'm fascinated by Don's evolution . . .
|
158532
|
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.
|
158466
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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…
|
158410
|
Smiling, holding hands, Joe and Lara basked in the sunshine of the mid January day as they approached the diner. The temperature was warm enough for golf. Joe had played in far colder weather in spring and fall.
|
158476
|
I almost caught a poet today.
|
158443
|
I wrote this paragraph (the first in a series of 14 paragraphs) shortly after Frank Sinatra had died and during my last visit to my boyfriend, M. He had not seen me write something in years.
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15841311
|
Ah, how sweet is forbidden fruit, how delicious undiscovered sin!
|
158473
|
In winter The Woods sleeps and the Woodsman comes. He collects the dead wood and makes coal. He nurses the injured animals and prepares the dying. He distributes the snow and regulates the temperature. In his fur hat…
|
158472
|
My vagina invites you to a party
Whenever your time frees up
Or now,
Now would be better
|
158482
|
Listen to chickadees. Join / LinkedIn.
|
158488
|
I caught her a-feasting with her eyes and smilin' at that Jesus- haired Waffle House cook, Dennis Roy, again and I said, “Merlene, my tiny kitty-kat, they's no reason to carry no torch for him ‘cause he may not be with us very long ‘cause, if you notice, they's no…
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158442
|
I give you the rattle of the rattlesnake. I give you a daub of creosote. I give you the metaphysics of glue.
|
158421
|
I'll strip off the skin down to the begin again.
|
158454
|
If you are a family member or friend of a person incarcerated in a correctional facility...
|
158421
|
Grady Quail wondered why God didn't just have another son
|
158333
|
And, you peasy-headed shrew, don’t you dare think I didn’t notice that it was you who stuck that fork into my neck in the Piggly Wiggly parking lot late Tuesday night . . .
|
158312
|
Johnny Rocket is on the I-pad, sad, He says, “Game on, King me, the Queen” Always "it", he eats pork rinds like mad, “King him again” high on amphetamine.In his sleep, ants come up from the floor board to eat french fries, cola, their aorta…
|
1583168
|
I watch the seagulls making their quacking noises
|
1583123
|
I think we love sex because it brings us so close to the heat of creation that we can see the smoldering flames and the light rising from twigs being rubbed together between the legs. Okay – your turn!
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