1528 8 4
|
It was cold and clammy, but then it got worse. Far worse. Any opportunity to celebrate the unity and harmony of tolerance was soon cancelled.
|
152845
|
The stick had a head and a face and a swirling robe, all etched in wood.
It was the 14th Dalai Lama.
|
152876
|
Maybe it was a trick of the gloom.
|
152899
|
She said, "Tonight let's talk of things untrue and he said, ' Like black is white and night is day and up is down and in is out?' and she said, 'Yeah, those things we know to be false for sure like you know, like...well, you could say, 'I really love you' and I could say,…
|
152800
|
You may be wondering, as is only natural, about the designated husband of our dear Princess.
|
152811
|
My grief is made up of
Demons fighting to
Claw their way first
Out of my eyes
|
1528103
|
It ain't the steak, it's the sizzle.
|
152865
|
It sits up tall on its hind legs to take in all of whatever this is, big and bluer than the sky, death's own taxicab parked on its doorstep.
|
152842
|
they tried to trick the sun
|
152711
|
He did many things for love: Once he placed his tongue in his boyfriend’s nostril during sex, because he seemed to have read in the internet that this was a “thing” among the younger of their social class...
|
152777
|
It's become sort of a habit now when Elsie's husband is away on business two or three times a month that we take the afternoon off and drive nine miles across the river to Marginalia, Arkansas and the Moonglow Motel with its red, neon vacancy sign and although to some, two…
|
152743
|
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.
|
1527117
|
She had just done it in the backseat with the man she decided would be her father. Or maybe it was the cast of his eyes under the dim bar lights. Maybe she insisted that this had to be done, to relive the night under the stars, under a dented roof of a station…
|
152721
|
“Apollo twenty-two. Come in.”, the voice crackled through the speakers of the aircraft. There was only silence broken by a solitary meow and the slight whistle of oxygenated air through the ventilation system. “Captain Snuggles, now that you…
|
1527118
|
They could occupy the space//
left by creatures larger and more/
evolved.
|
152754
|
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.
|
152763
|
so many bills to pay
the list keeps shedding its skin like a snake
|
152711
|
. . . nor did mine eye apologize.
|
152710
|
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.
|
152774
|
the stars might be the audience or they might not be
if the beat sits right next to me and hugs me nasty
|
152776
|
Here the three o'clock sun is an old patched up fellow, with a stained yellow beard, walking in a small crispy rain of brown leaves, looking at something that requires a bit of squinting no one else can see, on the far side of the softening…
|
152742
|
Dandelions wither as I approach and the grass dies under my feet.
|
1527119
|
When Chuck dies, I’ll throw/
a party and dance, a little drunk,/
across what I’ll pretend/
is the old shit’s grave.
|
152793
|
|
152732
|
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.
|
152642
|
Anatoly Gringovitch took a swallow of beer, thoughtfully put the cap on his Ferrari da Varese custom fountain pen, and launched into his story:
|
1526168
|
I watch the seagulls making their quacking noises
|
152620
|
Each evening the man allowed himself an hour of fresh air. He and Prickles would situate themselves on the tiny balcony overlooking the same street, a blanket bundled around them both for warmth. These were the times he liked to talk to Prickles the most
|
152600
|
Meanwhile it was four o'clock in the morning, Pacific time. Seven o'clock eastern. The cat was busy chasing imaginary mice around the hammock—at least Manuel hoped the mice were imaginary. He loaded the next digital images onto the screen. It seemed to
|
152676
|
Get comfortable with criticism
|
