1471 0 1
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I take her hand. More grey dust rolls off the arms, over the railing, into the wind. It’s embarrassing and I let go. I think she told me to throw them away months ago.
I rub her bare thigh. She laughs real soft like. The corner of her lip curls up.
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147122
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"I have consulted the Internet," the man remarks, squatting low, sorting through a mountain of tablets. He snags two and stands slowly, confidently, and I realize suddenly that he is Moses. Two iPads, cradled surely in each wrist, glow with lists.
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147101
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On the street / The protesters stand / Yelling words empty as wind
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147141
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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
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147174
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"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."
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147188
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Always in a hurry/to spoil your/weekend
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147132
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#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…
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147185
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—Jesus, that bastard has everyone in his pocket.
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147100
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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.
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147011
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No chance for Hallo, we sank into an unlit station doorway and he fumbled through my shorts.
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147021
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We all thought, Birds! We all thought, Nests inside the chimney!
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1470105
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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,…
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147062
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We cannot cross the river until it freezes. Bekker predicts January. For food we gather leaves, berries and roots from the thick forest behind the cabin. Suarez boils what we find into a revolting paste that we spoon into our mouths with dirty fingers.
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1470108
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like the Bible in / Mauritania, like a mouse in a vial of ammonia, / like a retired coal miner on vacation in the Alps
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147033
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Welcome the one and the all of you, welcome all you scraggly long haired weeds, welcome the no longer rolling stones of the new you, welcome you most beautiful little wonderfully…
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147065
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(the hourglass has not gone digital, oh no,/but these days, silicon is in with the sand)
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147072
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This is what it is to feel yourself forget.
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147043
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The first time I ever held a gun, I was three years old...
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147000
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Won't speak a word against 'em. Car trunk stunk like bad chicken long after, but I won't speak a word against 'em.
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147064
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Poetry is conceit; emotional, intellectual or technical.
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147011
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Shirley stubbed her cigarillo out on a dead chunk of honeycomb.
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147040
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We all stared, somewhat shocked and mostly disgusted.
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1470105
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“Now,” my friend said. “Tell us about earthquakes. Can we expect one anytime soon?”
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147093
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146921
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Ben was dreaming of sex with Claudia. But, in his dream, he could hear Dan Arris calling his name and pounding on a door. The fear of Dan Arris was pushing out the delights of Claudia.
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1469910
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When the dark shadows of his limp eyes told us life was slowly seeping away, stolen by his stroke, his wife signed the “DO NOT RESUSCITATE” order and, tearfully leaving the room, she turns, asking a final question, “Think a needy family could use his…
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146920
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“Tell me a story,” he said, toying with his top hat, running his fingers along its brim.
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146900
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Keiko covered her arm while holding the staff. She looked up and saw morning breaking through the sky, but something was unusual about it.
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146955
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In an authentic Irish pub in Las Vegas where over much crowd noise the three of us are discussing Yeats, Joyce and Lady Gregory. We’re in an Irish pub after all, plus the fact we’re literature profs attending a Vegas academic conference.
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146945
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After my mother died, my father shipped me to my uncle's. He hadn't told me she was dying, so he could just mourn alone.Lena lived next door, Italian, my age -- which was ten -- beautiful. She was watched by goons in black suits. Her parents owned a restaurant. Across the…
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