1532 6 4
|
your words that came crashing over me/
so cold the clear shock was like salt water
|
153245
|
The stick had a head and a face and a swirling robe, all etched in wood.
It was the 14th Dalai Lama.
|
1532118
|
They could occupy the space//
left by creatures larger and more/
evolved.
|
153243
|
Nights this husband returned home still hungry sometimes, even for her forearms against his own
|
153294
|
happily fling Molotov cocktails//
against ICE agents in armored vehicles/
and sing the pain of their burning deaths/
as triumph against asininity.
|
153265
|
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…
|
1532109
|
I offer you a peanut butter sandwich full of unconditional love
and you say I'm being controlling, so I let you eat cake, eat cake.
|
153211
|
There was no need to drive. She could travel ten miles in ten minutes. She merely had to be careful not to step on any cars or trucks.
|
153200
|
Over by the swimming pool singing - Hey hey it’s okay - A line from a song he heard - On the stereo when we were driving in the car - On the way to sign the papers to get - His grandfather released from the hospital
|
153211
|
Set your three-word story in prison.
|
153293
|
|
153142
|
Anatoly Gringovitch took a swallow of beer, thoughtfully put the cap on his Ferrari da Varese custom fountain pen, and launched into his story:
|
1531112
|
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,
|
1531106
|
gravel coughing up tires at 90 miles an hour
and just getting under way
|
153100
|
Why did he seek punishment, if he felt no guilt? Why this empty conscious, though he had done such evil?
|
153161
|
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?
|
1531168
|
Fear the air and fear the fire./
Fear the land and fear the water./
Creation is out to get you, speck,
|
153143
|
Soon, out of the womb ‘down there' is nuance. It guides you, like a legality, like your own breathing, in and out of overtone, hardcore hodgepodges, those inklings near sacrosanct beyond breakfront negligees and neo-negligence leading the good life. Isn't it…
|
153199
|
Its odors of quicklime/
and pyre-smoke will curl/
commingled in acrid air.
|
153121
|
I am exceeded / by a leaf
|
153011
|
Wherever you decide to grow
Please remember to ask the dirt
‘Am I still dust’
|
153001
|
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.
|
153000
|
Keiko covered her arm while holding the staff. She looked up and saw morning breaking through the sky, but something was unusual about it.
|
153054
|
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,…
|
153033
|
two pairs of arms and legs
|
153033
|
|
153000
|
‘A whole damn plane is missing and the only damn clue we have is a 9mm bullet,’ Picasso said to Victor Bravo whom he calls Torv. He’s his partner at the Picasso Investigation Agency.
They questioned the guard assigned on the night of the plane
|
153010
|
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.
|
153000
|
Who is the torturer and who is the tortured?
|
153083
|
A Beatles haircut and loose Khaki painters overalls rendered the child sexless. He or she walked over to Hugh’s side and standing tiptoe peered into the casket. She, for Hugh had determined it was a girl, stroked the silk lining.
|
