1475 8 8
|
Always in a hurry/to spoil your/weekend
|
1474105
|
The washing machine at home was broken. It was an old leaky Maytag. A discouraging mess—twisted panties, sky-blue jeans, and an old lover or two or three floating downstream (the reverse of spawning salmon). Each man was slightly drowned,…
|
147443
|
It was a wake-up call. A sign that I needed to stop and ask if I was making wise and sensible life choices.
My iPod was full.
|
147431
|
|
147462
|
She is trying to quit—nasty habit this smoking. Still, this is the only time she lets herself smoke these days: Laundry day.
|
147465
|
(the hourglass has not gone digital, oh no,/but these days, silicon is in with the sand)
|
147422
|
“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!”
|
147442
|
|
147431
|
Though his heart aches
his melody seems to flow
It creeps into the dreams
of all in slumber in the valley below
|
147432
|
#2 The Typewriter Inside You by Harmon Gentle—I found this one at a garage sale when I was 15. Intended as a manual for sharpening one's typing skills, by the third chapter it became obvious that Mr. Gentle's sanity had slipped, and that rather than mastering the…
|
147411
|
Shirley stubbed her cigarillo out on a dead chunk of honeycomb.
|
147444
|
A rope is cleaner,
he explains with a straight face.
He's calmed by the visual.
|
147311
|
No chance for Hallo, we sank into an unlit station doorway and he fumbled through my shorts.
|
147343
|
Philosophy: a muscular exercise of throat, jaw, tongue, and brain.
|
147311
|
Summer bakes the metal playground slide to ripples. Still, kids line up. Sadists, all of them. Lucky enough to choose pain. Max feels it every breath, unwanted.
|
147376
|
I almost caught a poet today.
|
147301
|
After you started drinking your meals and hating politics I wanted to climb inside, live in your stomach and dissolve. I wanted to make you see, hold you captive with arms stretched, pinned. listen again, swallow…
|
147300
|
The rocking chair will bite your toes.
|
147343
|
The first time I ever held a gun, I was three years old...
|
147365
|
Shhh. I am here. Otillie Augustine, from Trieste, an Italian city to you, but when I lived it was part of Austria. Such things as who flies their flags over a city? Not so important after all, after all the losses and the victory speeches. These were not…
|
147364
|
Poetry is conceit; emotional, intellectual or technical.
|
147385
|
|
147374
|
|
1473108
|
I never took more than a few pills at a time, just enough for a treat on Friday night.
|
147300
|
We named her Big Cat—I don’t know why. Maybe because she was already grown when we got her, unlike the kittens we’d seen in the pet store window that Dad wouldn’t let us have.
|
1473129
|
Who owns the moon? What title search/
could ever make a claim?
|
147340
|
We all stared, somewhat shocked and mostly disgusted.
|
147200
|
Long ago, this painter Brussegem had hung the dark mantle of Outcast Artist” over his shoulders—and over his life, he formed a strict philosophy—Art and Only Art—and protected his solitude and artistry with all his moody might,....
|
147221
|
We all thought, Birds! We all thought, Nests inside the chimney!
|
147294
|
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.
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