1468 10 8
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He knows I talk to angels, what he would call angels. I don’t talk to him.
|
146753
|
|
146720
|
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…
|
146701
|
[This story definitely WON'T be appearing in this month's "Alfred Hitchock's Mystery Magazine"!]
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1467107
|
Dreams / of being a millionaire are replaced by dreams / of being a billionaire
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146744
|
On a street-lit night in Jeddah.
|
146710
|
What if
Everything
I have been doing
Hasn’t been heard
By anyone?
|
1467126
|
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.
|
146711
|
He roared back at her, shaking his empty gun in his right hand, waving his left hand in the air. “I am George Burnett, esquire, late of Balliol College, Oxford! I am a hunter, a killer of pigs! I do not fear you, bear; take the pig and be content!”
|
146762
|
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
|
1467118
|
At the conference her boss showed off his knowledge of wines.
|
146743
|
I was walking my Belgian Waffle-Hound
Past the Belgian waffle shop
I found a penny on the ground
And did a tiny little hop
I spun around and went inside
The Belgian waffle shop
And bought a little waffle
For my Belgian Waffle-Hound
|
1467116
|
fanned lashes on rouged cheek
a glamorous sea creature
in violet perfume
|
146712
|
I was an alcoholic for ten years, starting in my early twenties and continuing into my thirties. Then finally, after many attempts, I got myself straightened out. My son's birth finally did it for me. It wasn't like a switch flipped in the delivery room…
|
14671210
|
I. Two cancer scares since June, one came up nothing the other nothing much. (My breasts are dense: I know all about moles— little bastards don't have to get sun to go nuts.) My manuscript travels ether to…
|
146732
|
I didn't feel when you cut out my spine I'd been throwing up all night couldn't even smell the rust …
|
146753
|
Before the railroad tracks are blown off by the wind, the wall tiles morph to trace 34th Streetwhile a silver balloon emerges from the end of the tunnel. A child’s hand reaches out for the gleam and she, the woman in a black-dress with a mandarin collar,
|
146771
|
|
146795
|
|
146764
|
I woke up to the humming
of an empty space in the shape of a sweatshirt,
|
146742
|
He brought me flowers once, three wilted carnations I put in water, though the sight of them made me uneasy. He brought me pictures once, too, of three sisters—ten, twelve, fourteen—straddling dirt bikes. He touched my shoulder once, as I edited pictures …
|
146722
|
“The window is a much better place to read,” she said.I wasn't aware she was talking to me, at first. In my typical manner, I was thinking about far off possibilities and realities completely detached from my own. Yet, here she was, a far off…
|
146711
|
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
|
146600
|
[CAUTION: READING THIS STORY COULD CAUSE IRREPARABLE "CULTURE SHOCK" AND IS NOT ADVISED FOR OLD FOLKS, PREGNANT WOMEN, OR THOSE WITH "MONSTROUS, FRAGILE EGOS"!]
|
146694
|
He wasn't sure if I was joking.
|
146632
|
So do you read my writing?I text youI need to know whatyou like betterThe bloodor the gutsThat's what it is.You see Iput it out therefor you.That's not what it saysbut I know the truth.Am I smart enoughgood enoughdo you think it's crapbecause anyone can like it…
|
146652
|
We talk of his time in the jungle.
|
146653
|
Any form of exertion would defile what we are trying to do
|
146654
|
this is where we end --
the exorbitant eye of forgotten days.
|
146600
|
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…
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