1470 9 4
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I’m not / going to change you I /promise
|
147051
|
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…
|
147031
|
She's an obese woman whose clothes don't fit: shirts that ride up too high her belly hanging out her pants suctioned to her strangely pegged legs. Her ballooned cheeks are always chapped pink her lips little slivers peeled back over small beige teeth like…
|
1470107
|
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.
|
147056
|
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 . . .
|
146921
|
Despite the newly bright bricks and the working clock, Cassie couldn't help but take a deep breath before entering King Street Station. She had always tried to hold her breath when her family cut through it on the way to Mariners games but had never succeeded, not…
|
146952
|
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?
|
146954
|
In the words of that great philosopher Hunter S. Thompson, "When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro."
|
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.
|
146942
|
Feeding you a taste of croissant
|
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…
|
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
|
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!]
|
146900
|
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…
|
146921
|
"You don't need the gun," Dean said. "Bring me a bottle of peroxide and some duct tape."
|
146944
|
"...,beautiful, yet neutral, an oversimplistic reading of the people we meet."
|
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
|
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…
|
146810
|
in her bedroom, opening night of his solo show she is snapping her nylons to center the seam stretching from her toes to where the line disappears into the hem of her dress.
|
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…
|
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.
|
146885
|
Perhaps my grandparents, Fred and Lela, when they were growing up....
|
146844
|
From the rumple of pre-dawn Queens, sure South on 95, to almost Savannah by dark; still cold, but we’re full of what’s coming:
|
146851
|
A tissue, she was saying - hand me a tissue. Her seat belt was locked and she was rocking back and forth in it cinching wrinkles into her favorite blue silk blouse. I can't remember her wearing anything else. Her hands were gesturing - on and on- an endless loop…
|
146833
|
Where we’ve penned heart shaped question marks, seeds sprouting bowed heads, a congregation of confused supplicants.
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