1545 6 5
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When I slip through the seams I return to the same place.
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1545115
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The smell of garlic, soy, and onions/
exhausted from Skillman Wok/
perfumes December air.
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154521
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At eight o' clock: as, drawn by many bells, The patchwork congregation lopes and stalks, To churches far from serenade of shells To storms, we leave behind the windblown walks, And sails of youth, to glide through liquid hells, A temporal…
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154573
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Sometimes you have to go wild; you have just to go fucking nuts. You do.
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154552
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If there was another way to describe emptiness, I'd word the endlessness of the sky, of the ocean at low tide.
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1545118
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every timeyou openyour mouthan angel fallsinto a vat of whiskyshut ityou're fucking up heaven2013 - Rene
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154553
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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,
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154544
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My father died. I took his clothes.
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154577
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You don't have to push back so hard. We wore our hair long. We wanted the animals to trust us in their wild open spaces. Everything will come undone. We wore our hair long because we wanted to Be able to find our way home in the dark…
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154560
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The Star Trek marathon ends, and he flips channels. An episode of Full House is on. The cheesy plot lines and attractive women (specifically, DJ Tanner in the late seasons) have become a freakish comfort.
In today's episode, the Tanners are baby sitt
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154556
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beckoning with citrus streaks blue cobbled streets/and stuccos lit with gold lamps guide strollers here/to Place du Forum in Arles and this café . . .
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154551
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It’s as she reaches into the fridge for the carton of half-and-half with the grainy waxy photo of the little girl—Last Seen 10/2/06—that the memory surfaces:
“Hey. That’s mine.”
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154443
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Her son was doubtless the biggest wanksta that ever went to Andrew Jackson in the whole crumby history of the school.
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154444
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154453
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154420
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Stay tuned for my next short - Candle Smoke Wishes - COMING SOON ON A MONITOR NEAR YOU!!
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154461
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HORDES OF MEN desolated, struck down, destroyed, sunken form of skin and skeleton, bare cloth matted to torso, bodycage and hipbone, face and neck darkened, bloating to black, rain the endless dream stuck fast in the stone-dead skull and blood a fine sheen over all,…
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154433
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The cover features Lincoln as a woman. Lincoln as a woman is not a thing of beauty.
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154441
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154421
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It was a strange mood, unfamiliar, not one of her usual “I'm busy wrestling with my personal demons” type of moods. She'd been steeped in it all day and I, like a shipwrecked victim reaching out for any piece of flotsam…
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154486
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There are those people, stranded on the moon, just like us, but that's not necessarily what I'm looking for here (though). Panic plus negativity won't pull us any closer to freedom through the barbed-wire halls of traditional hate. And that means…
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154466
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I'll still want the blinds open
and the lights on,
to see the papier-mache of our flesh
fighting death away to the century mark,
even if you only want to live until
a ripe eighty-two.
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154442
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If white t-shirts are only an SPF of 8, she couldn’t even imagine what a white nylon-mesh umbrella on this godforsaken beach might be in terms of protection.
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154400
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Lottie was a slim, fine looking woman. But Dale thought her breast implants were the worst case of overkill he had ever seen.
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1544139
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The line weights are spot on/
and the snap of lines is textbook/
for a discipline that died with AutoCad
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154486
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Removing the deeply embedded jack-blade frommy naked side, like any slicked-upsplinter, was just a bit jarring on the first bite, on first try, I must admit. I freelydo so now to your frozen-over faces. You made your…
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1544810
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The floor dissolves beneath us, pierced by lasered/
glare of countless eye-beams.
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154321
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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.
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154331
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1543146
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So many dreams I need to visit, though
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