1509 6 3
|
Her smile like fortune’s cannot be coerced but she opens her peignoir. He stares at the sullen bullethole between her breasts, dark blood welling slowly with each heartbeat. Does he bow slightly, turn away whole? You suppose not. She closes the door.
|
1509103
|
We are what we are, and that is zombies.
|
1509119
|
The commodore drives a 67 Caddy rag top
All fin and boatish power
|
150944
|
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.
|
150976
|
I almost caught a poet today.
|
150900
|
Ships tumble, cars crash, horns gulp water, bombs burst up from the ground in a halo of screams.
|
150953
|
Don reports everything to Uzma and Rasheed, I'm aware of that. It doesn't bother me. I'm not hiding anything from them or anyone else.
|
150961
|
I'm not dying. What is it called if you think you might have Hypochondria but you really don't? I'm worried that's what I have. Is it cold in here? Or is it me, dying?
|
150922
|
Smoke from the oil lamp traced the wall. It gave Nana something to read.
|
150910
|
The following is a true story, or rather it is a true experience from the story of my life. Some say that just because something happens doesn't really make it "true".
|
150932
|
Ty speed-walked down the long ass tunnel that connected his “A” train to the NJ Transit bus, which would take him across the bridge, where he'd splurge for a cab to take him home.
|
150922
|
“Oh yeah?" I said to Stendhal. "I found six references to women's eyebrows in Travels in the South of France. That's all you think about!”
|
150900
|
Being the baby in a family forces a focused outlook on life. Not necessarily profound, not even wry, but a perspective that pushes for two things - recognition, and to be in on whatever is going on.
|
150941
|
But tonight
while your finger
glides across
the glossy pages
of Popular Science
I hold a séance
for the Holy Spirit
in utter seriousness
among the book clutter
and crumpled manifestos
in the basement
|
150900
|
‘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.
|
150910
|
["LIKE SAND THROUGH THE HOURGLASS ... SO ... ARE THE DAYS OF OUR LIVES!"]
|
150920
|
He also had OCD. He had to kick every dog he met. Johnny killed a lot of dogs and was bitten by many others. He was a cruel bastard.
|
150912
|
A possum sits on a fence. The fence is downtown in a not-very-big town. Hard to say about possums and fences; this is not the first possum to sit on a fence. Once, during a suburban backyard party a possum sat on a fence and observed. Before long he could walk more…
|
150911
|
Shirley stubbed her cigarillo out on a dead chunk of honeycomb.
|
150842
|
Anatoly Gringovitch took a swallow of beer, thoughtfully put the cap on his Ferrari da Varese custom fountain pen, and launched into his story:
|
150854
|
He switches to quantum mechanics
and starts tinkering with his sleeve
memorizing a theorem
he'd figure out
if he had the time
for a deep breath,
he takes a deep breath.
|
1508104
|
I don’t know how some can do it. Can they just walk off the animal in the yard or something, and forget about love altogether? Some have that built-in coldness of the soul, I guess. I don’t get it. The blood does not seem to shake their hearts. Are th
|
150800
|
The cubs from every Clan shivered at his snarl. The Elder’s presence was overwhelming, and level of pressure pressing down upon them.
|
150842
|
who can quite say/when careless talk & confidence/slips into that other charged thing/so minimal at first
|
150811
|
Wherever you decide to grow
Please remember to ask the dirt
‘Am I still dust’
|
150821
|
I think we could be twins, our hands hitching us together like paper dolls, our parkas making blobby round balloon shapes as outlines for our bodies. I imagine each of us holding onto someone else, and the line continuing on from there until we have a cha
|
150811
|
Winter in Phoenix Arizona happens in July. An overgrown lawn is working its way up onto The sidewalk. And then there's you with your mower, A hidden newspaper in the middle of everything. Snowflakes puff out from under Spinning blades. You hover above like…
|
150832
|
The moment I was told of your passing...
|
1508107
|
and where have the years sped
how distant was your youth
|
150874
|
"I’ve always wanted to write a novel. Like Catch-22, something off-beat that would start by word-of-mouth, you know, and become an underground classic."
|
