1469 5 2
|
Don’t forget, I’ve watched the evil you’ve done to the lawn for years, not to mention the chaos you’ve made of the woodshed. Don’t you remember me showing you how to properly stack the wood?
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146997
|
This is the Minuteman tine/
of the three-tined fork//
we can stick into the modern world/
when it’s done-- a MAD triad.
|
146932
|
My pain is a black pearl hidden in a clean shell.
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146900
|
A dark and mysterious account of an ancient traveler seeking arcane literature, and the miserable results to him after he receives what he sought.
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1469109
|
He looks outside, sees everything disappearing like crumbing cookies into what appears to be a giant mouth.
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146995
|
He kept
saying how my old scars
excited him to new truths
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146922
|
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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146910
|
"If you don't like it then leave!" Sally screamed.
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1469139
|
Those who don’t die, desire, descend. No song aloft arises from my irk. The seeing chieftain, not of sea, nor sand, nor boat, I till nightfall stammer alive, dig boneless trenches against tiding dregs and lathe, hunt, wallow, plow the hours, call in awei
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146900
|
I'm getting self-righteous here, Dear Reader . . . [hey! wait a second! this is my diary! what are you doing, looking at it, dude! Hit the road! Scram! Vamoose!]
|
146921
|
"You don't need the gun," Dean said. "Bring me a bottle of peroxide and some duct tape."
|
1469105
|
If I could say only one thing more to Tony who died a month ago, there is one thing I could find to say
|
1469107
|
There were too many laws but not enough of the kinds she wanted. She wished for the right to go shopping. Then taste rather than disposable income or access to finance could distinguish people.
|
146864
|
The sad march goes ever on. It stretches endlessly over an eternity of painful hills, as unnatural as lumps under the skin, into the deserted broken down streets, the forgotten unprotected alleyways, always adding more and more lost children to…
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146866
|
The world has long since been bootlegged by madmen. The new invisible con men are the same as the old visible con men, hiding and lying behind their walls of lingering death. There's a weapon wielding demon hell bent on an insane vengeance crawling around…
|
146854
|
In the words of that great philosopher Hunter S. Thompson, "When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro."
|
146863
|
—You're convinced I'm crazy. I'm convinced you're incompetent.
|
146811
|
There's something about the way he touches me every time that makes my heart skip a beat and pushes the air from my throat. I shiver under his hot breath while he whispers softly and pulls himself closer, letting his fingers glide…
|
146822
|
'Like poems,’ I said
she paused and nodded
her black mop.
|
146853
|
In Aisle 3 would you brighthearted find Count the Chocula.
|
146822
|
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.
|
146842
|
Feeding you a taste of croissant
|
146885
|
Perhaps my grandparents, Fred and Lela, when they were growing up....
|
146811
|
an elongating boy with butter-yellow flecks in his eyes, and skin patched like a tabby.
|
146821
|
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…
|
146853
|
|
146800
|
He rolls in unbidden across the stubble fields /
Old acquaintance astride a newly booming cloud/
Under sky an alien shade of strawberries whipped/
Her watch stops ticking out the rest of her/
scheduled breathing poses
|
146800
|
We're at the Park Diner. My dad Tommie is sitting across from me. He looks haggard, tired. His skin is pasty and washed-out. He's not talking, so I'm not talking either, but it doesn't matter because it's hanging there between us.Cancer.Motherfucker.“Don't look so…
|
146844
|
"...,beautiful, yet neutral, an oversimplistic reading of the people we meet."
|
146851
|
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…
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