1444 6 3
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Whenever trees or limbs fell in isolate forests—well, no narrators were ever to be found, not even beneath the larger tree trunks or under the fallen limbs.
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144484
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Do you know this song, Julia? I happened upon it one evening and only just before meeting you, a month before meeting, a month before arriving?
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144497
|
If they are all speaking medicine & I / start speaking French - how / rude am I? Would they understand then / what it is to be entirely left out / of the conversation, unseen?
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144440
|
We’ve already agreed on a date when Jack posts some new pictures of himself. I have to swallow. Hard. In four days Jack’s become twenty years older!
On Thursday, a boyish thirty-something was smiling at me from my PC. This Monday I find myself stari
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144472
|
Lisa Pottratz's mother illustrated fashion for Lord & Taylor from home in the 1970s. There is more to say about fertility, naming, and diabetes.
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144400
|
Her feet are raised upon an embroidered green pillow and she sits naked in a blue velvet chair. Red earrings dangling from her ears, while a red monkey sits at her feet with one leg extended.
She is exotic. A powder blue on her lips and at her navel,
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144441
|
“Behold!” cried the Lord, on a late September morning,
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144311
|
For example, I never noticed that the moon had eyelashes, not until tonight. You said you couldn’t really see that, not at all. You preferred the fact that the word “lunatic” sounded like an attic on the moon...
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144331
|
No one takes me seriously because I am an idiot.
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144386
|
The first inkling that I might be in love with Josie came at our high school senior day outing at, oh, what's its name, state park. I forgot, but it doesn't matter. She smiled, did a little wave and stepped away from her friends, lifted her sundress a little to keep it dry,…
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144330
|
he flies away
past the green explosion,
into the azure sky
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144386
|
They clog the skimmer basket/
and fill the small Polaris bag.
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144301
|
... threads are nasty things / That snag and pull and tear the cloth / And will not let me be.
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144321
|
Finally my daughter emerges from behind the silver curtain, riding piggy-back on a gigantic proboscis monkey. She's preoccupied by his nose, and wrings it like a wet dishrag with both hands. If it hurts he's not showing it.
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144333
|
I kill because I can’t stop. I kill because I can.
|
144321
|
Under a conspiratorial moon… the shovel my silent partner… organ-less torso to the worms.
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144366
|
Then I did the same to you, inhaling your scent which was one thing at your hairline and another at your collarbone.
|
144201
|
So, I say, what is the answer?
The answer to what?
You know. The song by Bob Dylan. The answer is blowing in the wind. You’re the wind. So what’s the answer?
|
144254
|
The cellar smelled like an aroused muskrat.
|
1442105
|
Did they do it in pairs or all at the same time?
|
144230
|
I somehow ended up with my father's second wife's wedding ring. Although it could actually be his third wife's wedding ring.
|
144232
|
The were two things and two things only in the town of Comfort, Alabama, that were older than Bella.
|
144242
|
One evening I came home late from work to find my wife drinking white Zinfandel by the fireplace in the living room and reading Wallace Stevens poems out loud to the dog, curled at her feet.
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144253
|
She told me in all my past lives I’ve always been a woman, and I was stuck in this relationship and you weren’t coming back, so I should just move on and get over it. I was a little sad, but yeah, I knew I was going to go back to her one more time, just
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144211
|
Masking. Helen says not to think of it as covering or disguising or concealing. Helen says to understand it is not to take it as something put up front and over like a mask. Helen says it’s not like that...
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144210
|
Snap!
Dylan’s arms flung forward as the rod bent toward the ocean. “Holy God! What did I snag?
|
144211
|
“And what kind of man would prefer all these dusty old books to my physical form? Who would memorize archaic incantations, when he could be whispering in my ear? Why search for the ancient splendors of metaphor, when one could be searching for the ...
|
1442116
|
The big wigs call it aiding and abetting. I became an left-handed accountant with a tendency to fudge numbers for the damned.
|
144221
|
In the blur she met Joseph. Joseph was the priest who lived in the attic of the church. She met him after she grew boobs and thighs that moved like dragonflies soaring above ponds.
|
14422011
|
There was a form to it, not reproduction. I wanted to write Moby Dick without a man in it. [I wanted to write Moby Dick with only a woman in it.] But I didn't do it. It's like a seven-year diary, and it did happen. I might write it as memory then.
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