1451 11 6
|
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, …
|
145110
|
It was an eagle in the waves
Those eyes make no mistake
Especially from a mile high
Blue fish and tuna
Too dumb to run
|
145011
|
This is 57% of middle America, I'm convinced: doomed.
|
145020
|
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…
|
145001
|
Galloping people, tangled in ballets of hot love, weaving in and out, making a canvas of it.
|
145055
|
I opened the closet door and there stood Eugène Ionesco lost among our clothes.
|
145031
|
Sweaty feet, drool from the weighty sleep of mid-afternoon naps, the inescapable perspiration of the South: all combine to create the entwined scent of socks and stale toothbrushes...
|
145064
|
After the Tokyo experience, Frank and Michiko decided that when she went on extended tours, Frank would accompany her.
|
1450126
|
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.
|
145061
|
I would like to go back (with spade, pick, soft bristles), and sift through time and layers, brush away the intervening years, and find: the tooth, knocked out by my then best friend, when we were seven, careening downhill in my father's wheelbarrow on Boscobel…
|
145032
|
I am useless. A freak. Different. They all hate me now. All except you, of course. You will never leave me. Never. I'd kill them all if I could. Every single one. But twenty-four, that's a lot even for me. I'm so sick of the cliques; the special groups and hastily strung…
|
145054
|
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,…
|
145033
|
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.
|
145042
|
In the mode of Swinburne's ‘Dolores':For the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster- A study of the notion of “Intelligent Design” Since the universe came into dawning, If e'er this bright universe did, Men ought to know better in…
|
145086
|
Said do you feel it when you touch me?
|
1450147
|
At some point, you care/
just enough to wake each morning,
|
145011
|
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.
|
14501910
|
I can admire Falling Water
and find Mr. Wright a complete shit.
|
144953
|
|
14491511
|
sentinels in a frost-blackened field
|
144933
|
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.
|
144965
|
I know someone in need of healing.
|
144943
|
When I met Gregor Samsa he was still a cockroach, erratic and skittish whenever the light came on. We often spoke in the dark. I empathized with the man. I mean bug. Ok. That isn't fair. You can't call a man a bug because he chirps and eats dried skin cells. A…
|
144921
|
The blaring scream from my alarm clock suffices as my wake-up call. It disrupts me from my dream state that I so rarely get the privilege to experience any more. I've always loathed that alarm clock, so I turn it off in the most sensibly aggressive manner I know how: just…
|
144966
|
I feel his hand on my face, feel it brush past my lips, and I taste my sister's blood.
|
144922
|
|
144944
|
We'll all face the raging river, some sooner than others.
|
1449189
|
I want to tell you how the odor of the flowers/felt her funeral day
|
144973
|
edge of wolf howls and howls past sunflowers and skeletons
|
144977
|
Harvey C. Hamby was drunk. Usually he held his liquor well, but tonight he was off his form. Stumbling over an ottoman, he landed on the floor in a sodden sprawl. As he fell, his left foot shot out behind him and socked Glenda Steinberg in…
|
