1495 6 4
|
"...she's been seeming like she's been dreaming while awake lately..."
|
1495126
|
"You gonna be old before you're old," my father had told her.
|
149565
|
Maybe they considered themselves beyond redemption, or maybe they couldn't sit for that long.
|
149521
|
She positioned the mouse cursor over the word Bikini and double clicked. The hard drive of the ageing work PC chugged into life as an Excel document dragged itself onto the screen.
|
1495159
|
Conjure calamity and calamity comes.
|
149511
|
I knew we were going to fail. The night we met, when we got out of the car, I dropped my green glove in that puddle, you picked it up but it was ruined. That set the precedent for our whole life together. You can't look at me anymore. My cigarette…
|
149500
|
Cooking dinner for one in a city that isn’t my home. A beautiful city that I’m slowly losing interest in, just as I become a local. In a tiny apartment set in the most realistic part of town, I’ve turned the music up loud to drown out my thoughts.
|
149421
|
One can’t predict the final cadence of one’s life.
|
149465
|
Nothing good ever waits at the end of a long corridor.
|
149423
|
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:…
|
149490
|
Sit right down in the chair. It's a glider, see? Smooth and easy movement without that annoying head-swing you get from a rocker. And easy to get out of, unlike a lounge chair. Relax. "Reba" reruns will be coming on in a minute.
|
149476
|
Take 1. The Love Letter to an Unspoken Name Well we're beyond our appointed Moment now. We must step On what's left, alone, but That begs some explanation to These days that pinball between Stars and to the sad dreamers…
|
149411
|
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…
|
149494
|
I’m not / going to change you I /promise
|
149411
|
an elongating boy with butter-yellow flecks in his eyes, and skin patched like a tabby.
|
149400
|
To a tech-savvy millennial, the definition of progress is a hands-free blowjob, and the real number is not how many men you’ve been with but how many minutes you’ve made them wait.
|
149353
|
Seeking your will, instead we found, somehow, a clutch of our own documents;
folded under a rubber band gone to rot,
muddy strands nestled in the creases.
|
1493116
|
Heel to toe, our bunions
are our ingrown medals.
|
1493188
|
he who laughs last is probably a dumbass fuck
|
149300
|
I should have never gotten involved in such a huge lie. I was a poet, for God's sake, not a novelist. I wasn't used to lying.
|
149312
|
|
149322
|
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.
|
1493109
|
He looks outside, sees everything disappearing like crumbing cookies into what appears to be a giant mouth.
|
149365
|
His shirts he hangs on the back of the chair, one on top the other so they won't wrinkle.
|
149300
|
Behind the bellicose façade lay a soft, compassionate soul. He sat within a swirl of rosy twilight hues, buoyed by the gently creeping tide. A dark wall approached and he mechanically spun and began stroking into the glassy canvas of light and ocean that lay between him…
|
149389
|
They can’t exterminate the poor just yet
|
149344
|
You are in a car speeding through Dublin towards the West year after year the journey uncoils past the same landmarks Kilmainham Jail strapped to a chair bullet to the brain on by the Rowntree Mackintosh factory where the black and yellow and orange and r
|
149355
|
There are certain items in the sink that are giving me an anxious feeling in my stomach.
|
149343
|
Before the paint spikes Coney Island to the wind, I walk home through the strum of a shield, colder than the one he left behind. For the hour I sprawl along the sidewalk in her laugh, crater's shadows for Wonder Wheel, he is midnight sun in The Last Waltz. Where the glow…
|
149321
|
His touch, even now, seemed to set off tremors inside her.
|
