1368 0 0
|
Our deepest, most heartfelt apologies about the recent MySpace Bulletin, which mentioned your name and recent film and quoted you in jest. Your fifteen-page retalitory riposte was received by this office this morning, via fax sent by your assistant.
|
1368 10 7
|
and where have the years sped
how distant was your youth
|
1368 13 9
|
Those who don’t die, desire, descend. No song aloft arises from my irk. The seeing chieftain, not of sea, nor sand, nor boat, I till nightfall stammer alive, dig boneless trenches against tiding dregs and lathe, hunt, wallow, plow the hours, call in awei
|
1368 7 7
|
I remember the first & only time I parachuted it was 1964 my 16th birthday a rite of passage if you will from the old man an aerospace engineer & former WWII B24 bomber pilot I practice-jumped from oil barrels taught how to fall back then when the time came…
|
1367 1 2
|
In today’s print-on-demand and digital world, there are unlimited avenues for aspiring writers to circulate their work, but deregulation and limitlessness often leads to chaos. Writers are more inclined to release unpolished work that fails to rise to the
|
1367 3 1
|
No excerpts for you. Next!
|
1367 5 5
|
I opened the closet door and there stood Eugène Ionesco lost among our clothes.
|
1367 5 4
|
|
1367 8 7
|
Pale like a tracing of a memory
|
1367 0 0
|
The eyelid of the sink blinks silence. The clocks choke on smoke.
|
1367 2 0
|
I can’t deny you’re beautiful, though it’s unsure how many of your defects are fudged by my myopia.
|
1367 3 2
|
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…
|
1367 1 1
|
an elongating boy with butter-yellow flecks in his eyes, and skin patched like a tabby.
|
1367 11 8
|
|
1367 7 3
|
edge of wolf howls and howls past sunflowers and skeletons
|
1367 4 2
|
Blankets were always her undoing.
|
1367 8 8
|
I attended the burial of our affair when I found the notebook-maybe it should be called her diary-she had foolishly forgotten, leaving it on the deck of my beach house where she stayed while I was on that short trip to Chicago and I was numbed at first, unsure how to…
|
1367 2 0
|
Half past six; already, through the gloom Saltwater flourish sifts from wharfs that ply Their play like girls that haunt the midnight's womb, As far it seems as walks of Barbary. Within the bar, French waitresses and sots Play dice with time awhile and rub…
|
1367 5 0
|
Condensation on the Glass Riding down 22, I'm looking out the window. Time is a whirlwind. Your memory relinquishes itself, yellowed and fraying at the edges. It's raining and cold. I make a smiley face in the condensation …
|
1367 10 4
|
Every day, a fresh new/
strain of Hell reveals itself
|
1366 6 4
|
just before my break,/ he came on the line,/ old and slow with computers now/ but wanting a discount/ he'd been told he qualified for.
|
1366 10 5
|
an engine stalls out
in the parking lot
the driver
tears her skirt
coming through the door
|
1366 4 4
|
Robert Frost told me that life goes on, but that’s just not good enough for me and for God’s sake it shouldn’t be good enough for you either, should it?
|
1366 7 6
|
I almost caught a poet today.
|
1366 5 7
|
It is claimed we choose/
conditions of our servitude.
|
1366 3 1
|
It was more than just taste/
more than a point of view/
and oil and pigment/
that painted a store front church/
a box with a cross in a vacant lot/
that welcomed desperation, faith/
and imagination.
|
1366 9 6
|
"It was one kiss. No tongue. What does that even mean?" Lindley tried to see Leah as any other patient, "What do you want it to mean?" "I don't know," Leah whined, tears welling, "something, maybe. You know I hate surprises." Her sister was not another…
|
1366 2 2
|
The Inauguration Day Windstorm had blown out half the downtown lights to celebrate its twenty-first birthday. Two old friends flecked with gray snow and white hair sat on the boulders that kept the Sound from sweeping away Myrtle Edwards Park. Look at all the…
|
1366 3 1
|
'Every raindrop sounds different.' says Barney. He's bouncing along beside his mother, twisting in her hand like warm milk. She looks down at his Big Bear hat and tugs. They wait together at the edge of the busy road. 'How do they sound?' 'Zzzing.…
|
1366 3 2
|
I advertised in the local paper for a model.
|