1438 9 4
|
happily fling Molotov cocktails//
against ICE agents in armored vehicles/
and sing the pain of their burning deaths/
as triumph against asininity.
|
143834
|
But the restaurants put pig in every little dish. You couldn't eat there without encountering some portion of pig. It was in everything, including the cabbage. Who puts pig in the cabbage? I'm asking you. And in the dumplings too. For God's sake, give it
|
143833
|
I reach out and grab a can of soup with each hand and spin them around to dive into this much-heralded sodium situation. It's a landslide. I almost smile as I put low sodium back and continue to hold tightly onto regular.
|
1438129
|
Enumerate the small delights/ this bright first morning
|
143887
|
By the sixth - Dizz, Falstaff buzzed - Croons - The Wabash Cannonball
|
143800
|
“I believe this is a case that is very much worth our time. Its probably the most important case thus far in your reign,” Henry said, “my lord.”
|
1437138
|
Spying is a different concern. Privacy also. I feel there is a loss of privacy just in believing or realizing it is possible; our forebears did not experience loss of privacy digitally, perhaps in another way.
|
143794
|
When we are given eternity, as a night is eternal
|
143710
|
Another noise, softer than the first: swish, thud. You are still. The house is very loud tonight.
|
143761
|
Why do I love you? The monster that you are?
I love you for revealing to me my strength
My determination, my will
My need to survive
I love you for showing me the gift that is living
|
143721
|
if you don't quiver with anticipation you'll barely manage to explode
|
143732
|
I’m casing the place; my boyfriend Jimmy is about to bust in and rob the store.
|
143711
|
. . . nor did mine eye apologize.
|
143741
|
Zusman snored on the sofa as Motel gathered his belongings in the dark. He moved quietly as had become his custom in the mornings. Initially he had tried not to wake his nephew on his way to work in the…
|
143722
|
My Thursday head belonged to a former Miss Brazil named Rita.
|
143730
|
blackberry pie and huckleberry wine and litte Maria with her summerset bangs
|
143711
|
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.
|
1437116
|
I suppose it was inevitable, This crashing of souls, This recognition of possibility to create. If we were younger, We would make a baby, The ultimate act of faith. Now it has to be something else, Nothing to force a track with night feedings, …
|
143711
|
My mother gave her all to convince him to be a politician. My sister begged on bleeding knees for him to give her head. I just needed somebody to help me find things.
|
1437117
|
You are a warm winter
Despite the presence of snow
|
143731
|
Sheep are very philosophical, I hear. Stop this hopeless dreaming.
|
143621
|
Anatoly Gringovitch sat in the police car returning him to the Opera House.
|
143655
|
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…
|
1436107
|
Nik Wallenda was going to walk a wire stretched from Sarasota Bay across US 41 to a condo on Gulf Stream Drive.
|
143664
|
After the Tokyo experience, Frank and Michiko decided that when she went on extended tours, Frank would accompany her.
|
143600
|
A life in NYC was one I always dreamed of but I found myself turning into a bitter, sarcastic person who was losing the ability to see the silver lining in just about anything.
|
143633
|
She calls me by my name. She says I am her daughter.
|
143662
|
Speaking of stiff nipples, I heard you once wanted to become a painter, because of your fondness for nipples. Feeling like Gauguin and his little Polynesian women/girls, are we? So, you're going to try to out-paint God, are you, Mr. Sistine Chapel of the
|
143676
|
Here the three o'clock sun is an old patched up fellow, with a stained yellow beard, walking in a small crispy rain of brown leaves, looking at something that requires a bit of squinting no one else can see, on the far side of the softening…
|
143620
|
Now it's late. I am hanging upside down from a rope coiled around my crushed left ankle, the pain too sharp to be really felt, as the excess blood to my head makes my thoughts fuzzy. I am almost two meters from the rock face, thirty-five hundred meters above sea-level, the…
|
