1365 6 2
|
her expressive sigh releasing. Sated. The last of our kind, evolving flightless we remain on the ground, culling through corpulent consumption.
|
136501
|
“Hi, I'm Mike, and I don't wanna work ... Wanna play foos?”
|
136456
|
Do not spank the truth
Whatever else you do
You do not ever
Spank the truth
If you let the truth be spanked
You will be diminished
And it will never let you
Be finished, instead
When you are dead
You will dangle in the land
Between
|
136400
|
John Davies paces nervously around an empty parking lot...
|
136453
|
I've lost the remote control to my brain
|
136482
|
I had ink for blood then and “the news” was my oxygen.
|
136463
|
...my books have lots of swear words. So there's that.
|
136412
|
It was the sweetest relationship I've ever had.
|
136442
|
The air smells like dream, like farm shit, like the salty stalling of evolution.
|
136496
|
Plans were all set. We were leaving this town. We'd been creeping around long enough and Marla wanted nothing more than to get out and away from the shallow, old bastard she married. “Fuck his mansion and fuck his country club”, she said. We both agreed that he…
|
136432
|
Bubbling from the hairline cracks in the glossy pavement of the new Einkaufszentrum in the town of Dachau oozes a mysterious thick red substance. Not blood, the mayor insists despite chemical analyses. And keep it quiet. Just…
|
136410
|
As the 5 train gained momentum away from Fulton Street, Helen took her seat with the alertness and suspicion of someone who had spent the day negotiating prices with dirty fishmongers.
|
13641413
|
Frenchie hustled waffle irons.
|
136423
|
I think we had parties with cats before— you were Mr. Gallant, and I Madame Sunshine—we would drink tea laced with toilet spray, and you would complain:…
|
136466
|
I polished his shoes to an avid black; sewed buttons backand mended torn silk and cotton.His clothing was my busy work. Needle, thread, stitch, and iron,I was his apothecary of linens.Blood, wine, soup, vomit --these I cleaned too, until all theircolor and scent…
|
136484
|
If you were a poem / it’d be called/
Better Homes and Gardens.
|
136422
|
I’m just your ordinary poem,
|
136453
|
In the center of the big diorama, the real world hangs in the air by a hook.
|
136444
|
It began the night my parents took my brother and I to see The Vikings at the drive-in and the trailer for The Girl Can't Help It came on the screen, introduced by the completely acceptable Tom Ewell, which the folks could swallow, he was one of them, but as soon as…
|
136400
|
Darling Valentine’s pale legs shone in the dark, a beacon for the car driving without headlights along a tree-lined row of brownstones.
|
136432
|
Then I see her walking down the grass aisle: my assignment. She looks nothing like the image I have been trained with, but her identifier is strong.
|
1364127
|
I need some fantastic news. I need some happy news. I need to feel happy. Need Fantastic Need Fantastical Need News Need Happy need happy news make happy news happy make ake
|
136331
|
Far away or up close, she appeared just like anyone else, a young woman with pale arms and legs and a milk-face unblemished by a single freckle or pimple or blotch. Only when she turned a certain way did it become clear that what rested atop her muscle an
|
136321
|
A bridge not satisfied with just crossing the river - It slashed through the sky, crashed through nature - Creating a new nature, a double-decker
|
1363138
|
inside i know my heart rattles
cause outside i'm only seeing
that the truth is in tatters
|
136322
|
All I need is a break; to meet a woman who has access to a fruit fly database, either personally or through a trust established by her fruit-fly collecting grandfather.
|
136300
|
Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh, swoosh; the rhythmic thrust of Mezereon’s wings…Th-Bumm, th-bumm, th-bumm; the drumming of his heart…Hooou, hooou, hooou; the exhalations of his breath…
|
136365
|
The one at
dusk is not the one you met this morning.
That one's gone like a head in the window.
|
136396
|
Birds fly and people
hurry in the wind and rain like it's a matter
of pity.
|
1363157
|
Cacophony of an engine-braking eighteen-wheeler/
scatters the crows to fences, trees and wires/
in a startling chant of caw, caw, caw.
|
