1465 4 2
|
A walled city doesn’t let you out any more easily that it has let you in earlier.
|
146542
|
Feeding you a taste of croissant
|
146510
|
It is your music that makes me want to crack open my ribcage and rip out my heart as it still beats, to cauterize my carotids, and shove the mechanical insides of a clock into my thoracic cavity.
|
146589
|
They can’t exterminate the poor just yet
|
146586
|
Before Genesis, digesting the primordial soup.
|
146500
|
Should probably be faster at the cash register
|
146544
|
"...,beautiful, yet neutral, an oversimplistic reading of the people we meet."
|
146551
|
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…
|
146522
|
Happy Birthday to me.
It takes just a second on waking to remember,
It's June but it feels like December.
|
146421
|
Sometimes when I fall I see a ...
|
146422
|
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.
|
146400
|
His mother hated blue jays, hated them with a passion she usually reserved for no-count trash who drank beer on their front steps and worked on their cars in the street.
|
146432
|
Artie Shaw gave Ava Gardner a reading list in preparation for their honeymoon that included The Brothers Karamazov, The Origin of the Species, Das Kapital and The Magic Mountain.
|
14641410
|
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.
|
146454
|
Uzma dashes up the stairs ahead of me . . .
|
146421
|
Keisha selected a strawberry swirl cupcake from the waiter's tray, so pretty, from the hottest, coolest, newest patisserie. Moist strawberrylishious cake, swirly pink frosting, sprinkles. Keisha was one lucky lady, scoring a bizdev gig at recession-proof…
|
146431
|
It was the first warm day of a late-arriving spring. Ben was sitting in his divorce lawyer’s office on Maiden Lane in lower Manhattan.
|
146487
|
The rat had been informed, assured, cajoled in order to gain his assent—duly lied to, in other words, by the researchers with not one tear of remorse, with no smudge or smear of conscience . . .
|
146455
|
Eat blueberries every day and you'll live to be a 92 year old mogul. Really.
|
146321
|
Oh sweet, sweet morning light
|
146384
|
A man bows his head
and crosses his chest
before crossing the street
and the rain keeps falling
on his bare blue shirt
and on top of his head
The taxis will not stop
The light’s still red
as the man waits
for the sign of the hands
|
146398
|
Over his usual ham sandwich and skim milk for lunch Uncle Waldo used to always say, “Going out in the dead of night without a flashlight is dangerous.” But I knew what I was doing. After dark, I'd slip out and sneaker on down the path to take a dip in a…
|
146320
|
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
|
146322
|
'Like poems,’ I said
she paused and nodded
her black mop.
|
146365
|
Nothing good ever waits at the end of a long corridor.
|
146332
|
My pain is a black pearl hidden in a clean shell.
|
146311
|
"Soviet Mandelstam rose like Christ from the Nightmare,
Rises from the gulag, sunrise on the page."
|
146363
|
I wear boots over bare legs feigning ignorance
To the coming storms, the snow the ice the cold
|
146344
|
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:
|
146351
|
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…
|
