1554 3 2
|
He painted a woman on them, identical to the woman that kneeled by his bed.
|
155443
|
A tornado and peacock were bred in his paddock; the couple gave birth to a turquoise lasso.
|
155464
|
I woke up to the humming
of an empty space in the shape of a sweatshirt,
|
15541814
|
His eyes are wide then narrow and brown. Hers are gray then they look away, toward the back door where a delivery driver has walked in, carrying a tray. Nothing is going to happen today.
|
155374
|
these tender girls tears recent / with stained souls, brides of dead, / cadaverous Erebus; unguarded ladder / long the down going…came Anticlea then
|
155321
|
|
155343
|
It was a wake-up call. A sign that I needed to stop and ask if I was making wise and sensible life choices.
My iPod was full.
|
1553115
|
The spectacle of weather/
on the prairies approaches.
|
155365
|
I know someone in need of healing.
|
155322
|
I do not know the species of birds here. /
The two I see playing on the balcony at night /
I can never call back.
|
155331
|
"Look Emily, I’m charging your solar powered calculator and helping you relieve your dependence on foreign oil."
|
155300
|
She wheeled more deeply into the office towards Mason’s desk. Keith hurried to the desk and pulled the chair out of the way for her and a sat down next to her. She was blue-eyed, pale and completely hairless, which made it difficult to guess her age.
|
155300
|
Licking my wounds.
That's what my mother calls it. I'm not really sure what that means or if it's true. Sure, losing your boyfriend, apartment and job in a matter of months can drive someone to do something impulsive. Something crazy. But I've always b
|
155300
|
We trade broken phrases of English, Arabic...
|
1553118
|
“Just how many different animals try to hide their nakedness?” “Only one. And that'd be us, idiot.”, Twinkle responded. “Then, why don't we mind sometimes showing our bodies?”, she then asked. Twinkle could see it was going to be another…
|
155364
|
In a field of barley, I see you, ...
|
155361
|
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…
|
155352
|
—Now that’s a hell-of-a-painting, Frank, he said. Those colors are engaged in warfare. How the hell did you do that?
|
155354
|
They have their own homes to fill with bought and sold dreams. Their own babies to care for and feed. The world is big enough to have more layers than you can ever imagine. The lights will show you a way when you have turned too dark for your own…
|
155364
|
... he could feel the pointed picket spears.
|
155311
|
Where the skin had grazed, shredded by the coarse gravel to form scabs, fascinated Jack. It reminded him of his youth and his own grazes, scratches and stitches. As a boy he imagined scabs were rough foundations of igneous rock, blood like lava pouring th
|
155241
|
When I came back from California the second time, in the summer of 1965, I was the first around our town to wear my hair long, influenced by the Beatles. And I bought a bunch of blue caps that everyone in our gang wore, with the number “69” sown on
|
155200
|
Mother’s eyes stared outward in a trance, on her throne, visualizing the world Azure made. Though it was right before her, she could not reach it.
|
155200
|
Online dating. Russian women. Beware.
|
155220
|
The story of a second, a stone, and an android -- all curiously interrelated and all, coincidentally, named Gretchen
|
155210
|
Even before I tap on the door I know I am being watched with one eye. My footsteps have surely given me away. A swift tug on it reveals her to me—half of her, that is, and I slink past the threshold, to her. From her eyes I see that she has…
|
155273
|
the sun is quiet like the mountains,
the birds except for their wings
|
155266
|
I feel his hand on my face, feel it brush past my lips, and I taste my sister's blood.
|
155265
|
To listen is to feel embodied reason//
sing and dance with consummate grace
|
155266
|
And here’s a picture of you
at the end of the line
to the great toilet of
fiction, waiting to
relieve yourself, quick
before the poetry gets to you.
Or worse, the actual
poets.
|
