1512 3 3
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Amanda Palmer's explaining the eyebrow thing. An altercation with someone at Roadrunner, or maybe old boyfriend shit to burn— She's animated but he's losing signal, filling in the blanks himself. Whatever, it won't light at first, and then WHUMP and she…
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151240
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He couldn’t dredge up a single memory about the sex.
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151222
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It's one of the most difficult problems of aesthetic philosophy: What do we mean when we say that a song is sad? None of the big names--Aristotle, Kant, Croce–Benedetto, not Jim–come close to answering it.
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151265
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His shirts he hangs on the back of the chair, one on top the other so they won't wrinkle.
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151200
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I'd had a long, hard fall from the pinnacle of the profession. I made the mistake of accepting a mouse pad, coffee mug and a fleece pullover with the logo of Upchux, an anti-reflux drug, on the left breast where you'd get heartburn.
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151222
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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.
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151222
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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…
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15121410
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Sitting together at Starbucks, we composed a long love letter which we've been mailing back and forth to each other, signing our name upon each receipt and returning it for the last nine months and it has grown to eighty seven pages, barely fitting in a shoe box.
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151221
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Be aware the dog is king, radiant, emitting many beams, renewed by and restored by his fullness, his satiety. In many ways underlying all our hearts and minds, out of our notorious youth, ever the flower of our flesh on fire like a little reed next to the dried…
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15122011
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There was a form to it, not reproduction. I wanted to write Moby Dick without a man in it. [I wanted to write Moby Dick with only a woman in it.] But I didn't do it. It's like a seven-year diary, and it did happen. I might write it as memory then.
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151201
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Laurel's new bike is powder blue, with silver tassels on the handle bars. Jenny's mouth actually waters at the sight of it, as though it were a fresh loaf of bread or a perfect, juicy orange. “You can ride it if you want,” Laurel…
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151151
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“There are so few uses for Crisco, that to keep it in the house seems an unnecessary temptation,” said my health teacher.
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151112
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indelicate, as everything arrives at once.
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151178
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1511157
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but most times/
it’s just improvisation//
with phrases of unknown origin/
swirling in my head
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1511105
|
and, under foot,//
dark caves waiting/
with their unseen pigments/
adorning forgotten walls.
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1511910
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Fine gradations of the fractional/
fissure the eggshell whole we crave
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151111
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I am only ever
What you seem to be
Without the leverage
Of sweet reality
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151122
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I may as well have been sleepwalking. Either way, I had no opportunity to admire the moonlight flooding into the long corridors, illuminating the stag heads and painted cheeks of long-dead ancestors.
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151122
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A single woman should regard every train ride as an opportunity, I once read in one of those “How to Find A Boyfriend” books. “When boarding the train, don't take the first available seat,“ the author advised. “Walk through all the cars…
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151111
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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…
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1511126
|
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151154
|
Quarts of philosophy may be transacted by semantic obstetrics.
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151166
|
(no one need fear timidity in our tastes― /
we like trying new things, no matter our hastes!)
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151100
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My husband says you don’t have to tip the owner of an establishment, just employees. I never heard of that rule, and suspect it is another example of him just being cheap.
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151194
|
soft voices singing somewhere in the black back of
rising tensions crashing with the waves...
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151020
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One day a girl with blond hair was walking along the fence on the other side. There were just a handful of us left and I was the only one to notice her. I watched her. She did not see me. The next time I saw her, I went to the fence. I thought she might y
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151094
|
The poet could not speak of himself
but only of the gradations leading toward
him and away. ~ Mark Strand
|
151086
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It is the fragrance of decay/
as paint, polymers and dyes/
outgas molecules of themselves
|
151095
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I never meant to shipwreck you,
I didn't even know I was singing out loud.
I just stood on my rock a little too boldly,
and hummed a tune you wanted to hear.
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