1579 1 1
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. . . nor did mine eye apologize.
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157911
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Colton nods, without words, understanding the significance of every word that the Old Man has uttered, knowing that in the end, given enough time, we all go down that lonely corner, to embrace the darkness, wishing to be cured of our sentiments.
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157951
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They come in my room without knocking and I'm nekkid.
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157922
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Other men looked up and, rather than feeling pleasantly surprised at the sudden sound of ethereal metal crickets in their presence, left the restroom after hastily finishing their silent shaking. Mitch joined them, feeling like a coward for being afraid o
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157964
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“What took you so long?” she asks. She seldom asks me that when we’re done, but today I feel ready to protract the glory, to tease out its rise and fall like the lingering chords of a Debussy pastorale.
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157922
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My Thursday head belonged to a former Miss Brazil named Rita.
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157999
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No one has touched me for a long, long time and I believe that is why I am dying. This is a notion that is new to me but it has persisted over the last few weeks and I believe I finally have apprehended the truth. There was a time, I remember all too well,…
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157865
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Certain disorders lend themselves to poetics.
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157822
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Rogue sits bedside in Jello Biafra’s hospital room.
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1578104
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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
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157855
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I opened the closet door and there stood Eugène Ionesco lost among our clothes.
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157875
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157821
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She also castrated her cat. All by herself...with her Swiss Army Knife. And not with the blade either.
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157862
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She is trying to quit—nasty habit this smoking. Still, this is the only time she lets herself smoke these days: Laundry day.
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1578105
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It's been twenty years since you left. I should call it a day.Even the Obeah woman said as much. But I don't listen. Instead I sit with old and proper ethnic widows in black, waiting for your return. One of them translates my story for the…
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157800
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You cannot go back, you cannot go home, you cannot cannot cannot…Only in memory is it possible to travel back in time. We all imagine it. We relive happy moments, sad moments, we exist, time exists and it passes. We cannot stop it.
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157854
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Mon wakes up surrounded by trees. The light is grey, the trunks black.How long have I slept? he wonders.He doesn't know which way to walk. In every direction, the same prospect of trees. He looks up at a blank sky. No sign even of the sun.***He starts walking. Slowly,…
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1578118
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157842
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they tried to trick the sun
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157800
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A tanka poem about Jolly Old Nick being black as hell.
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157720
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They think because you are a writer you are not much of a listener and so you begin to recognize all of the great opportunities to be much more of a listener and then you shut your trap and get sucked into the whorls of her big wet brown eyes with Italianate…
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1577128
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in White Heat
there’s a character
who reads lips
using a mirror to see
the mouths of prisoners
in other cells
that’s how I feel
when I talk
with you
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157700
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The Vegan Defense League is a vigilante group formed to fill the gap left by local law enforcement, who jam the parking lot a mile down the road at a donut shop. “By the time the cops finish their coffee and chocolate frosted donuts, we could be dead.”
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157796
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As I walked down to the Subway, I thought to myself that now, after the horror in Boston, everybody looks like a terrorist.
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157720
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"My sister's parrot admires your armpit," X-Lautrec says. "Would you be so kind as to nail an avocado seed to a cup of black coffee?"
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157700
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Would we have been satisfied with a humble butter sculpture of a cow in 1960? Puh-lease! Would Parisians of the Impressionist era swoon over a big-eyed child picture?
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157711
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Shirley stubbed her cigarillo out on a dead chunk of honeycomb.
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157732
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I separate my thoughts into two / camps
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1576112
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The water lapped against the sides of the small boat, their rhythm all that I could think of. Sweltering rays beat down, frying my flesh, the insipid salty breeze that occasionally stirred my only relief from it. Gulls circled overhead, like white ravens,
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1576103
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We are what we are, and that is zombies.
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