1312 16 9
|
The blood is memorable/
as is the copper taste of that/
momentary certainty of lockjaw.
|
131275
|
|
1312128
|
Compartments trickle together/
in light diffuse and unreliable./
Fortify yourself against the day.
|
131254
|
Mon wakes up surrounded by trees. The light is grey, the trunks black.How long have I slept? he wonders.He doesn't know which way to walk. In every direction, the same prospect of trees. He looks up at a blank sky. No sign even of the sun.***He starts walking. Slowly,…
|
131200
|
I play in the dirt with cattle bones
while Mother rattles the sky.
She tells me I have my fathers eyes.
The words come through bloody fissures in her lips.
|
131275
|
The nerves are birds that guide us to feeling the loop and lift of reverie.
|
131255
|
She thinks this is the place she dreamed
|
131211
|
The Bird King is trapped behind the mirrors. Sometimes you'll see a hand, a wing, fluttering in a dark space. You may even see his breath, a pulse of mist in a corner of the glass. But don't ever smash his silvered prison. Don't ever let him out and into the world.*****O…
|
131223
|
Me sad because of results set forth in my life story.
|
131121
|
In the ’70′s, Bigfoot was romantically linked with Farrah Fawcett, spotted in an Arkansas 7-11 with Elvis, and tabbed the front-runner to be Secretary of the Interior had Gerald Ford defeated Jimmy Carter.
|
131110
|
the honesty of bodies & the lies hidden under skin.
|
131141
|
Wicklow sat in the handicapped stall, pants down and straining, fed up to here with a world in which he couldn’t even take a decent crap.
|
131165
|
His shirts he hangs on the back of the chair, one on top the other so they won't wrinkle.
|
131100
|
At night, he saw the commercial, the same one every time: the Watson’s girl, mascot for her father’s pool, spa, and billiards business. The Watson’s girl was a veteran at this, the same one from his youth, the one whose heart-shaped face and cleavage the
|
131100
|
In the state that the stars fell on,
Love and I stumbled upon bits of God
where he forgot sky and moon, too.
|
131100
|
It is easy to look out on the Bowery and say, "There are the bums." Encountering one, however, even one who asks to "bum a quarter" or tells you he's "on the bum" the word "bum" slips away in one's mind...
|
131120
|
Originally published on Six Sentences:In a family of many hushed secrets, only so many years could pass before the cracks would begin to show, and usually started with the creative girls. Though her aunt had been dead for two years, Shifra knew the cracks the family…
|
131166
|
Rises monstrous out of the Baltoro GlacierPlaying poker with oxygen levelsPlays leap frog with embolisms.Malice and vanity join forces somurder guns the air even beforethe Death Zone. Down suits, bold and cockyregisters the climber's ambitions. The Serac , a…
|
131120
|
Night became day and back again in the span of a heartbeat, the familiar strangeness of the sudden change stinging like dust in the eye.
|
131041
|
Ben was not a happy musician.
|
131052
|
Once there was a man who wrote in code. He was comfortable among substitutions
|
131010
|
The doctors said, when she was born, that the gills would eventually fade away on their own. Nothing to fear, they said; no more unusual than the rare child born with a tail, or a dense pelt of fur, or a single sharp tooth jutting from its new pink gums.
|
131054
|
I would advise the younger you to change your underpants, and not to let those boys do the talking for you.
|
131000
|
Two women are escorted to the desert, where they are shackled to the ground. Who are they, what have the done, and will they survive?
|
1310107
|
Nik Wallenda was going to walk a wire stretched from Sarasota Bay across US 41 to a condo on Gulf Stream Drive.
|
131095
|
I'm putting makeup on my face. The woman next to me is reviewing legal briefs.
|
131032
|
Billy took acid and blatzed into a 7-11, holding his dick like he hoped the store guy would think the thing was an Uzi. The guy laughed his ass off, reached under the counter, and pulled out a .38…
|
131032
|
I don't mind being dead. It's ok. Really. I've discovered a whole new way of being based on non-being. What else can you do? I like being invisible. I like groaning and rattling chains. I used to be a writer. Still am. In fact, it might be more accurate to say that…
|
131011
|
we all die from the bottom up
|
131052
|
The manicured lawn rolls down either side of the knoll, punctuated with flat granite plaques, the occasional bouquet of cut flowers, a smattering of faded eight-inch American flags.
|
