1415 11 7
|
Names are forbidden here. So is apology.
|
141597
|
This is the Minuteman tine/
of the three-tined fork//
we can stick into the modern world/
when it’s done-- a MAD triad.
|
141589
|
a half-moon hung straight up and down
|
1415129
|
...it was moving toward me from an oblique angle somewhere behind, steadily, relentlessly.
|
141599
|
It’s layer VII we adore/
and mourn
|
141511
|
When people talk about the end moments when one's life flashes before his or her eyes, they often refer to time as slowing down. I can attest to this phenomenon during my final moments, before the collision: the song playing on the radio, the squeal of tires and flash of…
|
141500
|
“Okay,” I say, “but my point is the only way you’d ever know if someone really loved you is if they put their life on the line when it counts. Otherwise you gotta take their word for it.”
|
1415117
|
|
141573
|
Ginny, the mother, was a lark in every respect of the word. Born and raised in central California farm country, to a family of lower middle class means, educated in public schools in whose bathroom stalls she was deflowered as unceremoniously as a pig ta
|
141565
|
Maybe they considered themselves beyond redemption, or maybe they couldn't sit for that long.
|
14151010
|
I told her I didn't love her. She said love wasn't important; she wanted to marry a man she could respect.
|
141542
|
Last night we slept with books in the bed.
|
141551
|
It starts with a letter, down the back of the couch, ending, ‘love, always.' I read only the kisses aimed at me - a firing line running off the page. How long has that letter hidden there? It secreted itself in a corner of the house…
|
141555
|
where will we be/ when it happens?
|
141522
|
There is a roofer straddling part of our house, pushing shingles off of our roof with the edge of a shovel. …. I've thought seriously, at times, about becoming a nurse. Seeing your mother in a hospital bed, hooked up to a tube, more than one, too…
|
141500
|
If Don’s story was one of faith carrying someone through his trials, the story of Randy Slafter is another. It was faith that brought him and his family to Johnstown 15 years ago. The wings of faith protected him from the dark angels of grief and tragedy
|
141512
|
His wings, like tiny shoots, grew a season in an instant. The pain was gone now. He rose up as effortlessly as centaurs run, as angels fly. "I will sing your name as my brother among my brothers," the Seraph promised. Kladius watched the beasts below
|
141454
|
The silver urn of ashes inscribed
with his unknown name.
|
141444
|
I gave you two daughters.
I gave you four grandchildren.
I'm done.
|
141475
|
The pool deck was covered with the bloody footprints of resident gawkers.
|
141454
|
|
141423
|
I. Europa How else to begin but with Gustave Holst's Mars--the gods waging war in romantic twilight as drumbeats and cannons blast swathes in the gloaming and glory awaits in the halls of black smoke. A visual perhaps:…
|
141400
|
He then spent his walk home to his single apartment spitting up various textures of red, combinations of cherry and blood mostly.
|
141489
|
They can’t exterminate the poor just yet
|
141466
|
The four Grannies say, “GO!” and leap from the window. King's pickup is below, and he has lined the bed with his mother's throw pillows. Sundresses fly. Blue plastic diapers billow. They want cigarettes. I light their smokes with King's pearl-handled lighter as…
|
141488
|
My stories are ramshackle; they lurch along in old sweaters with holes and missing buttons, drinking from mismatched cups and saucers.
|
141450
|
"The Chinese don't have no Mardy Grah, bitch."
|
141444
|
The bartender kept looking at himself in the mirror behind the bar. “Everyone in Hollywood is an actor,” Doc said.
|
141444
|
we were traveling on wasn't necessarily going to go careening over any hill as fast as it was smashing into the blunt end of another cloudless hole like a cartoon cat chasing a cartoon mouse. It was huge like a stone wall that had its own…
|
141400
|
lying back on inviolable sheets, your breasts spread apart like a child’s open hands
you’d look up at me and smile
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