1580 11 2
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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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158022
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At a candlelit table near the back of the restaurant, Jack and Lois greeted the waiter as he delivered their drinks, a diet coke for him, and for her, a vodka and cranberry. He apologized for the slow bar service and promised to return in a moment to take their…
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1580128
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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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158032
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As I gripped the wheel and stared at the expanse above my head, my compass spun wildly. Something wasn't quite right
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1580104
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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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158062
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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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158075
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158021
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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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158042
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Lorelei was bombarded constantly with it. She began to hate the city...
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158074
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sprang straight up to their full galloping heights roaming over your hills like constantly shifting eyes, your strange approximated illuminating hair like ghosts giving birth to a tender smell of green sea foam. This was all I saw, but it was quite…
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158011
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"Yes. It was moving, and not along the ground, either. We were. . . looking toward the cemetery, and the ghost or whatever was clearly visible. . ."
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158034
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When it was sticky cool at night, he'd pull her hair up off her neck and spin it like a pinwheel. “You could be anything," he would say. “You could be a preschool teacher.” She waited for him to add, “For dragons! For wallabees! For…
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1580105
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She looks for the obit, can't find. Over and over, looks. Nothing. Nothing except something touching her shoulder. Follow me. Corridors, doors, along and along, no time to notice that this last is the stage door — she was so suddenly there in the blare and…
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158011
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. . . nor did mine eye apologize.
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1580118
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158022
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My Thursday head belonged to a former Miss Brazil named Rita.
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157965
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Certain disorders lend themselves to poetics.
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157910
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On Friday evenings they play Scrabble, a whole crowd of them. They use books to keep score, page numbers, instead of a long column of pencil scratches. They organize themselves into teams; the English majors all together, versus biology, history and horn players. She and he…
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157922
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Rogue sits bedside in Jello Biafra’s hospital room.
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157911
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“...you should have something moving around here.” Tracey looked around, then said, “Paul, you should get a cat.”
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157900
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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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157996
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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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157962
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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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157954
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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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157900
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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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157942
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they tried to trick the sun
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157900
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A tanka poem about Jolly Old Nick being black as hell.
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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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157820
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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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1578137
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