1482 15 9
|
They were discussing reincarnation,
what animals they would come back as.
"I'd be a vole," Cranshaw said. Is a vole
even an animal? Connie asked.
|
148211
|
I am only ever
What you seem to be
Without the leverage
Of sweet reality
|
148288
|
My stories are ramshackle; they lurch along in old sweaters with holes and missing buttons, drinking from mismatched cups and saucers.
|
148242
|
The ambient sound wheezes on.
|
148211
|
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…
|
148211
|
an elongating boy with butter-yellow flecks in his eyes, and skin patched like a tabby.
|
14821711
|
I couldn’t parse the grammar of her body
nor decode the secret softness of her neck.
|
148211
|
another lonely drone holding still
|
148200
|
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…
|
148221
|
My third Rule of Success—and I may not have these in exactly the right order–is always get a pre-nup!
|
148211
|
Suddenly the producer, Irving, tosses a new idea into the discussion, an idea for a possible film. Then the writer, Herbert, does the talking. He performs, in fact, puts on a one-man show. The idea! The idea! It's…
|
14821812
|
the epiphany at the mast at midnight is not the same at dawn
|
148251
|
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…
|
1482105
|
If I could say only one thing more to Tony who died a month ago, there is one thing I could find to say
|
148255
|
Eat blueberries every day and you'll live to be a 92 year old mogul. Really.
|
148164
|
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…
|
148144
|
Robert Frost told me that life goes on, but that’s just not good enough for me and for God’s sake it shouldn’t be good enough for you either, should it?
|
148120
|
A rock group named Stuck Gas Pedal. Another named Tweezer. A group of young punk-rockers wearing neckerchiefs named Mein Kampfire. But wait, there’s more.
A song called “We Were Being Facetious,” co-written by them all.
Lost Flyswatter. That
|
1481116
|
Heel to toe, our bunions
are our ingrown medals.
|
148112
|
|
148132
|
Eighteen-year-old Svetlana Kabalevsky was now the widow of the poet Dmetri Kabalevsky, soon to be another widow-whore on the Moscow highway.
|
148165
|
Nothing good ever waits at the end of a long corridor.
|
148165
|
His shirts he hangs on the back of the chair, one on top the other so they won't wrinkle.
|
148151
|
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…
|
1481113
|
|
148143
|
In the end nothing could bring him back because I tried. All those weeks and months, yet all I have left are the tears and memories. He said when he asked the final questions to those in charge he was confused.
|
148196
|
Because we cannot know, we keep walking, keep getting up each morning, feeding the cat, drinking coffee. Because we cannot know I'm drinking coffee that morning in Thailand, not on the beach but just off, because there is only one spot where you can get real coffee,…
|
148054
|
The silver urn of ashes inscribed
with his unknown name.
|
148000
|
"They don't know how this formed or how it got to where it is today. What we do know is that it's not going to last forever." Said Edward McCabe to his daughter who hadn't learned to talk but communicated with her father through her agreement or disagreem
|
148076
|
Up at the top, a quarter mile south, billows of black smoke crawled up the faint blue of the sky.
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