1374 0 0
|
We trade broken phrases of English, Arabic...
|
1374 6 6
|
I feel his hand on my face, feel it brush past my lips, and I taste my sister's blood.
|
1374 5 5
|
“If your work is good you will get published. Just keep at it."
|
1374 6 4
|
In a field of barley, I see you, ...
|
1374 0 1
|
I take her hand. More grey dust rolls off the arms, over the railing, into the wind. It’s embarrassing and I let go. I think she told me to throw them away months ago.
I rub her bare thigh. She laughs real soft like. The corner of her lip curls up.
|
1374 4 3
|
And he was wearing a mask. Gorilla mask over his gorilla face.
|
1374 6 5
|
I left the train, still going nowhere, but in a hurry.
Still a boy, but trapped in a suit.
|
1374 4 1
|
But tonight
while your finger
glides across
the glossy pages
of Popular Science
I hold a séance
for the Holy Spirit
in utter seriousness
among the book clutter
and crumpled manifestos
in the basement
|
1374 10 9
|
...clash of gulls
wend upwards, disappearing into grey
night's high tide recedes
|
1374 5 5
|
While watching the ever-present crowds
passing by on my insides, I noticed,
by accident, a man smiling
who might have been me, not sure.
Maybe I’m eating soap
for the first time, because I am
either frothing or foaming
at the mouth.
An
|
1374 0 0
|
Early in the morning
I wanted to send you something
for when you wake;
|
1374 3 2
|
The Italian was late. She was supposed to come into the store, meet him in the back, and arrange to take the last of his liquor.
|
1374 5 1
|
THE BOOK YOU'LL NEVER READ CONTENTS This Is Not A Test In The Event Of A Nuclear Attack, This Message Will Be Followed By A Message From Your Local Civilian Defense Authority Fuck, The Radio Doesn't Work Trouble Shooting Radios The Top 40…
|
1374 4 3
|
"You're no good at sex, no good at drugs and, god knows, no good at rock and roll."
|
1374 11 9
|
When Chuck dies, I’ll throw/
a party and dance, a little drunk,/
across what I’ll pretend/
is the old shit’s grave.
|
1374 1 1
|
Come to the park and swing with me, sing with me.
|
1374 4 4
|
A rope is cleaner,
he explains with a straight face.
He's calmed by the visual.
|
1373 2 1
|
My eyes are wide open. I look like a graphic novel. My world is black and white. I’m poorly drawn. All sounds have an exclamation point.
|
1373 3 0
|
Every town has one. Or one at the very least...
|
1373 6 4
|
The heart would have unnatural reverence, exalted, bursting with evil, rolling in sloth, if it did not at once reveal its innocence. I saw you again, on the morning of the sun. It was you, or your double, or a son you might have had. Your beautiful bloo
|
1373 1 1
|
Sometimes you wait by the mailbox and he doesn't come. It doesn't come, the letter, the talisman from another world you've been waiting for, and you give up. You finally open…
|
1373 12 6
|
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.
|
1373 15 10
|
in which a man who is bored with years of retirement poses a threat to himself and others
|
1373 6 4
|
your words that came crashing over me/
so cold the clear shock was like salt water
|
1373 9 9
|
She said, "Tonight let's talk of things untrue and he said, ' Like black is white and night is day and up is down and in is out?' and she said, 'Yeah, those things we know to be false for sure like you know, like...well, you could say, 'I really love you' and I could say,…
|
1373 8 3
|
goes on and on. Like it's a sad mad season on Mars, well it isn't, is it? Sometimes I have towonder whatever happenedto us, to make us forget how well we already know how tosing as good as any larks do? I have never wantedto drown, but I've…
|
1373 5 4
|
Uzma dashes up the stairs ahead of me . . .
|
1373 0 0
|
The first apartment Troy and Lynn lived in was managed by an alcoholic former army officer, who lived in the complex with his wife and teenage daughter. He was a lush who didn't do much in the way of management. Lynn had barely noticed him before Troy moved in with her.…
|
1373 9 5
|
"Possible candidates for reading to a crowd"
the subject line of the email to myself read.
You see, writing can be hard -
or writing can be easy.
But writing for a crowd you'll see is something else entirely.
|
1373 4 2
|
I was in life, in my dream. I was feeling around underneath your clothing. My fingers were shining in the underwater afterlife of memory, searching for those lovely nipple-sized mollusks. I lived in a land somewhere between the past and the future. Now
|