1419 6 6
|
I feel his hand on my face, feel it brush past my lips, and I taste my sister's blood.
|
141942
|
who can quite say/when careless talk & confidence/slips into that other charged thing/so minimal at first
|
1419128
|
We suffer//
the one agony only- of having no longer/
any physical effect nor way to speak/
of what we watch to those we watch.
|
141932
|
Billy took acid and blatzed into a 7-11, holding his dick like he hoped the store guy would think the thing was an Uzi. The guy laughed his ass off, reached under the counter, and pulled out a .38…
|
141996
|
As I walked down to the Subway, I thought to myself that now, after the horror in Boston, everybody looks like a terrorist.
|
141900
|
You shine brightest under a starlit skyThe moon reflects your beautyAs the wind sings your name sweetlyIt was under the heavens that we promised togetherThat I'll hold your hand and you'll be mine forever... You glow brightest when the sun is at its highestYour radiant…
|
1419118
|
At the conference her boss showed off his knowledge of wines.
|
141974
|
The stain upon / many others cannot be discerned.
|
1419107
|
and where have the years sped
how distant was your youth
|
141953
|
God’s hearing aid is missing
And apparently needs an enormous battery
But no one has the
heart to tell Him
because who wants to be
shouting at God?
|
141920
|
“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.
|
141976
|
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…
|
141971
|
|
141900
|
“Well in opposite heaven every time you make scrambled eggs the shells break into a million pieces, then you spend eternity picking them out of the yolk.”
|
141954
|
If you are a family member or friend of a person incarcerated in a correctional facility...
|
141944
|
My father died. I took his clothes.
|
141944
|
I slide my CD toward Eric Burdon who sits, smiling and gracious and fatigued from Seattle traffic, at the table at Silver Platters, where I have just purchased ‘Til Your River Runs Dry, and stood in a line of old gray heads to have him sign it. I remove my hat and…
|
1419135
|
There were guitar players, and as happens with talent sometimes, the guitar players were too talented. There could not be places for all of them in a single rock band.
|
141932
|
Boil (n.)––1. Pus-filled pustule inflammation of the skin, usually painful. 2. Slang boiled pus, bucket of (n. phrase)“Your asshole brain is a bucket of boiled pus.” (see also pus, SCOTTISH derogatory term for face.
|
141800
|
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…
|
141830
|
Roanne, just out of jail, went to cop. That is, she went to beg fat little Freddy the dopeman to front her once more. She'd have to fuck Freddy, of course, but, well, maybe he'd wait until after this time. Likely not…
|
141855
|
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…
|
141832
|
Michiko stood in front of Steinway Hall on West 57th Street.
|
141865
|
When I slip through the seams I return to the same place.
|
14181010
|
I dreamt I was raped the other night. Sometimes it was me, that is, and sometimes it was another woman with a dark bouffant hair-do. Definitely outside though and the hulking back of the man was covered by a charcoal wool…
|
1418103
|
My sixth grade teacher used to tell us all the time about how being poor is nowhere near the same as living in poverty.
|
1418126
|
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.
|
141831
|
My beloved lets me crawl into bed
and put my feet on him
since his skin is
warm and hot like a fire roaring from within
his soft flesh.
|
141833
|
She calls me by my name. She says I am her daughter.
|
141855
|
“If your work is good you will get published. Just keep at it."
|
