1439 3 3
|
Where we’ve penned heart shaped question marks, seeds sprouting bowed heads, a congregation of confused supplicants.
|
143966
|
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…
|
143952
|
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.
|
143923
|
say no / to me / and devastate me / and I will take it / as god's will / to drown me / in a vat / of my own / entrails
|
143975
|
I'm hearing a noise. I can't see it. It's hiding and seems to be coming from the other side of the creek. With boots on I slowly wade across. The water makes its light lapping sounds. Reaching the bank, I search for the noise. It must have a face, suntanned and warm, that I…
|
143955
|
I'm not sure whetherI drink to numbthe pain or toactually feelsomething.
|
143956
|
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 . . .
|
143820
|
The story of a second, a stone, and an android -- all curiously interrelated and all, coincidentally, named Gretchen
|
143844
|
people keep trying to get me/ "out of the house"./ they see fun in me, and cool in me,/ and want to spend time with me,/ and i am flattered most sincerely./
|
143811
|
I dream about the boy in The Neverending Story, the gate of mirrors, and the Nothing, a dark cloud that floats in the sky, takes away everything.
|
143822
|
'Like poems,’ I said
she paused and nodded
her black mop.
|
1438157
|
Got something inside me
hard as nails
keeps me walking upright
ain't never failed
|
143811
|
Max sighed. Solving for x was boring, so mind numbingly boring that he didn't notice the flickering blue light hovering in his room. It crackled and popped, growing until a shimmering rectangle stretched from floor to ceiling.A hand pushed out from the rectangle, and a…
|
143882
|
He bites and imagines, numbed by want.
|
14381911
|
Culture gives what it feels you deserve/
in the cul-de-sac of your time and place.
|
143822
|
As I fall to the ground I realize that in a few moments I will be experiencing a new kind of pain. The last pain. The last pain I will ever feel.
|
1438165
|
As the music concludes, I'm finally in control of my emotions . . .
|
143888
|
My stories are ramshackle; they lurch along in old sweaters with holes and missing buttons, drinking from mismatched cups and saucers.
|
143840
|
like old discarded snake skin,
dry and coarse after the bite...
immortally tortured by broken glass bottles.
|
143811
|
we all die from the bottom up
|
143822
|
the lightning horse you never mounted in your inherited dream~wetter than the oceans you never traversed~will you ever ride pure abandon?
|
143800
|
Should probably be faster at the cash register
|
143843
|
|
143844
|
“What. Is. That?” Sid asked, staring at the shaggy ball of fur sitting in the living room. Its tongue hung out of its mouth and its tail beat against the carpet.“This is Ranger,” his mom said. “I don't know what breed he is, but he's a sweetie…
|
143841
|
When I was younger, I tried very hard to be myself, but it never worked. I'd close my eyes, wait a beat, open them and slowly bring them into focus. This is the new me, the only me. Never worked, not once. It could only last a minute or two, so I…
|
143732
|
I am not responsible for any nightmares this piece may cause for all you mice lovers!
|
143741
|
Ben was not a happy musician.
|
143721
|
One can’t predict the final cadence of one’s life.
|
143784
|
A man bows his head
and crosses his chest
before crossing the street
and the rain keeps falling
on his bare blue shirt
and on top of his head
The taxis will not stop
The light’s still red
as the man waits
for the sign of the hands
|
143711
|
Like a distant memory of past expectations
I wander through past journeys, delineations
chew on the fresh air like a discontented Wordsworth
now free, free to roam where I will..
|
