1393 4 4
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Lying on a high seat in the south study, this is what I see:
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1393118
|
The gaunt broken man walked with short quick steps on the uneven path.
|
139343
|
Some fiftysomething woman with a small dog in her arms was waiting for him, backstage. Security hadn't succeeded in restraining her. Strange.
|
139331
|
It worked for a short time and their next album, "The Hirsute Agenda" became an underdog success.
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139221
|
|
139253
|
The bar was dark and a little dirty, and that suited Splinker's mood just fine.
|
139264
|
French citizens. The friends were all citizens of a half-assed France. The friends were all half-assed citizens of a French stance. Carol was more American, more eggnog, more cream-of-wheat. She represented dull victory.
|
139242
|
The convalescent home's common areas are surprisingly well-appointed, given the neighborhood, which makes his actual living quarters that much more dismaying. Poorly lit, dusty, stifling, the room reeks of socks worn for weeks on end. My nostrils burn, and my eyes…
|
139233
|
The shit just doesn't want to come off.
|
139200
|
Read that bit in Alice about the mock turtle soup
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139222
|
Smoke from the oil lamp traced the wall. It gave Nana something to read.
|
139212
|
...Truth is, it’s because of fabulously wealthy men and women like myself who long ago sucked all the cream out of the bottle, and now we’re coming back for whatever milk remains.
|
139233
|
“Sandy likes the way Bob spanks, when he’s done she gives him thanks."
|
139265
|
"People are stupid. They've always been stupid. But these days...." His voice trailed off. "Dumb and dumber, huh?" the Boss asked. Peter nodded.
|
139210
|
Tiny was my daughter. Or what was left of her. A mucous-y chunk of what was once in my womb and then wasn’t.
|
139211
|
My grief is made up of
Demons fighting to
Claw their way first
Out of my eyes
|
139232
|
...I’m honest enough to know that fucking around has never been accidental or unplanned. Every time I did it, even in the rock bottom throes of esteem, sobriety, and life, yes, even on the brink of suicide, I knew exactly what I was doing...
|
139211
|
- Never in pain and distance -
Frown on these moments,
With bitterness and vain
|
139220
|
Rothko and Stella loved the beach. To Jalapeno it was just one big litter box and for her it held no great appeal. She sprawled sunbathing on the dashboard lifting a lid occasionally to watch Lauren riding a wave. The dogs delirious with freedom romped and chased tight…
|
139254
|
Swatches of Chinese silk in vivid red and lavender fly through the air. My granddaughter in her mid-thirties reaches for the cloth. I see in her mirror a shape forming; a slim, gray haired woman with a spring in her step. I pause to admire my reflection and pass over the…
|
139195
|
I recalled the one night stand I'd had with the girl one balmy summer night in Minneapolis. We lay on my bed in the moonlight, and I touched the nipples of her tiny breasts with the thumb and pinkie of one hand.
|
139121
|
if you don't quiver with anticipation you'll barely manage to explode
|
139142
|
If white t-shirts are only an SPF of 8, she couldn’t even imagine what a white nylon-mesh umbrella on this godforsaken beach might be in terms of protection.
|
1391108
|
My first love was a woman of principle. Never deny your man was her motto.
|
139121
|
Grady Quail wondered why God didn't just have another son
|
139183
|
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.
|
139010
|
My first abroad journey completed. A picturesque way to end it all, really. I’m into that, I think to myself: making things play like movies or dramas or as beautifully as I can make them.
|
139055
|
"Give it to me I said, you dip! Fork it over!"
|
139000
|
When she got back to Claire's, she was hammered and she had no idea what time it was, what day, or, frankly, what planet. It was the first time she'd been that drunk in years. The last time she could remember getting even close to that wasted was at a Christmas party right…
|
139041
|
This poem first appeared in “Walt’s Corner” of The Long Islander, founded by Walt Whitman in 1838.
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