1510 10 11
|
I fall in love with a second cousin at the picnic. I make sure I sit next to her.
|
151021
|
We all thought, Birds! We all thought, Nests inside the chimney!
|
151033
|
For me, it was that kind of moment. I got to come back. I had been here before and now, well now, I could come back. I had a chance to do it all again, bigger, better and well, just better. I hoped I could remember all that I learned the first time.
|
151000
|
Slipping into the Sydney Harbour Tunnel like a nocturnal creature fleeing the light, tears stream down my cheeks, spilling from my lips, the pain too great to care about self-preservation. Drunk still, hands clenched, I strain to focus on the world fading into a blur of…
|
1510116
|
I said hey man, how you doin’? He looked up and nodded but his shades flashed and I couldn’t see his eyes.
|
151044
|
James Hubert III sat at the bar. It was late. His wife and kids were long in bed and he knew he should be, too. But with the Lovelandtown lift bridge stuck in mid-air, a drink beckoned him. He sat next to Vince DeSantos, a small, stout man, with a bowling
|
151031
|
It was more than just taste/
more than a point of view/
and oil and pigment/
that painted a store front church/
a box with a cross in a vacant lot/
that welcomed desperation, faith/
and imagination.
|
15101816
|
Gossip Betty Martini divorces husbands when they least expect it. On a seeming whim, she pays a visit to dear Arnold, who keeps her papers handy in his top desk drawer. She initials here and there, signs with a…
|
151033
|
two pairs of arms and legs
|
151088
|
the brain plays impish tricks/
and entertains itself with avant garde/
home movies
|
1510109
|
...clash of gulls
wend upwards, disappearing into grey
night's high tide recedes
|
1510129
|
Enumerate the small delights/ this bright first morning
|
1510119
|
A cheap pocket knife was the only sharp I carried in my backpack and they allowed me that. The man with the pot tattoo on his neck said, “All of us here needs some type of knife. You gotta cut up your food. We don't…
|
151098
|
Regret takes the shape of little clouds ...
|
151000
|
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?
|
150922
|
The light of day is screaming,
shook by the calls of howler monkeys,
their low roar hanging in the salt,
in the black sand riding the wind,
as Playa Negra outstretches its infinite arms.
|
150954
|
I got no good hubcaps
My van is up on bricks
It's held together with duct tape
And a couple of crummy sticks
I caught the guy who did this
And tied him to a tree
I kicked him in the windpipe
And kicked him in the knee
I'm a man witho
|
150955
|
Style Shifts “Oh, yes, my cousin. We were rude boys until the armed gangs started to gather. Used to be we could pass a night driving, playing our songs, acting tough. Yeah. We'd mouth off, flash some teeth, spark some anger when we felt like it. We…
|
150953
|
Into the bowl I put Tales from the Crypt, The Far Side and an episode of Numbers. Wisked for a moment, then let the dough rise.
|
150921
|
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.
|
150922
|
Suddenly I'm not feeling it anymore. /
Poetry has become insufficient. /
I can't do it like I used to.
|
1509115
|
As air warms and warm/
winds stir, green becomes the force/
that surges the plains.
|
1509126
|
Have you heard this yet? The daughter flew home to care for the mother, whose pump is still tick ticking—though now with aid—which means she leaves the kitchen when the microwave clicks on.
|
150900
|
a dozen girls with Encarnación's face flit past, whispering kisses along the part of my hair, tickling their hems along the cuticles of my nails.
|
150952
|
—Now that’s a hell-of-a-painting, Frank, he said. Those colors are engaged in warfare. How the hell did you do that?
|
150950
|
Rumpelstiltskin cried
because you belong to me;
|
1509103
|
Words are looking ever so strange today
like a hole in space
a wind in a cloud
a face superimposed over a mountain
|
150910
|
["LIKE SAND THROUGH THE HOURGLASS ... SO ... ARE THE DAYS OF OUR LIVES!"]
|
150920
|
“I do not know if you can hear me, or if you can talk to me. Some people do not believe in people like you, you know, spirits, ghosts or whatever you are. I do. I know you are here because of what happened here.” I could not speak. I did not feel I could.
|
150973
|
The countdown is on and daily the propaganda gets more and more aggravating It appears at times that the news media dictate and orchestrate more that just report on events of diplomatic shock. A huge effort has gone in to covering this coming war and it…
|
