1379 5 3
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“I can't go to sleep,” Jonathan said, laying on the doctor's couch. He counted on his fingers to keep his mind active. “I'll certainly die if I do.”
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137911
|
We may sniff a gush of something
in the rush of heat round a petrol bomb.
Or reap a gift from the
cracked head of a hero.
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137931
|
Little Roy Farrell'd taken a bite of his fourth grade teacher's ear as she bent close to help him sound out the word “grace.” Doc Felter had sewn most of teacher's ear back on, but by seventh grade Roy still couldn't read and never understood that he'd in
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137922
|
The night before we dug John Clark's grave, my brother and I stood outside his windows and got an eyeful. Rose, his wife, should have closed the blinds. There she was in the arms of Willard, her neighbor, middle school science teacher. It was a serious…
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137943
|
Today, the buxom neighbor carrying blintzes
Egged me not to care about
What’s not flat. She forgot
To bend, clanging together
Some fronts and sides.
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137811
|
“Forever you will be mine” she said to me, and of course I did not believe her. She was a romantic and so was I, and such words habitually dripped out of her lovely mouth like honey from the comb, in a never-ending flow of flattery which I am ashamed to s
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137820
|
It has been two days since nearly seven billion people have gained some extent of super powers and I figure it will only be one or two until they tear this planet asunder. I have had to move from my third story loft and take refuge in the basement of my apartment complex.…
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1378104
|
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137831
|
This year, 2011, you bring about my thirtieth year. I'm apprehensive about this, but mainly because my father made me watch "Logan's Run" as a kid...
|
137897
|
|
137831
|
He fought off the U-boat packs in the Atlantic — one hand on the tiller, one on the torpedo launch button.
|
137865
|
You're sitting in a darkened theatre with Gothic ceilings and one exit watching the latest Alan Ladd film with William Bendix and Veronica Lake.
|
137811
|
She never leaves her desk, but food appears like magic.
|
137874
|
Jim Morrison moved
ever so slightly
in the cold of his grave
|
137842
|
Dee startled awake from the dream, sat up in bed and looked around the room. The dream came back--hazy, yet clearer by the second. Dee had been warning the girl in her dream that he was a monster; that she shouldn't talk to him, should stay far away from him. …
|
137820
|
It’s possible that you’re dying. Every headache a brain tumor, your friend once said. You laughed then. Now you begin to see what he meant.
|
137886
|
One by one the hundred matte black drones hummed awake. The buzz was loud on the tiny airfield but died out soon among the waving amber heads of Kansas wheat that surrounded the unsigned base.
|
1378136
|
April spit its greeting, toe to head.
|
137831
|
She was just a small dog with a big heart.
|
137811
|
“I love women. They’re like goddesses.”
|
137841
|
The Beatles on TV
their last show
together
as a group
and we all
knew it
smoking dope
sitting around in large
groups
in living rooms
across the universe
they sang Let It Be
and The Long and Winding Road
knowing
a man
|
137821
|
Things that happened, were said, acted upon at twilight or later.
|
137700
|
Character & Fitness, the opening chapter to my novel, "Death of the Dying City."
|
137721
|
I look as sympathetic as I can, under the circumstance, which is entirely unsympathetic.
|
137700
|
During the hangover, I crawl to my desktop computer and then Google “rapid STI testing” and “speedy divorce”
|
137733
|
Violet goes with her mother to the home, delivering cookies to old folks. She's getting to hate how she goes along with everything her mother asks. Some of her friends are rebelling already, and Violet feels something under her skin. It's still just a dark shape, lurking…
|
137711
|
And why rabbits? Rabbits never went to a slaughter house. Rabbits died in the road, run over by cars, shot by prepubescent boys or eaten by dogs but never slaughtered in mass. It didn’t make any sense, thought Art and he wanted to ask the small man i
|
137763
|
Written within five minutes, being a parody of the artless vacuity of observational 'poetry'(By Tedward Weeney and Seamus Spews) The large wind in the treetop tells the blackbird its own voice. The yellow grainyard resounds to the clodding of my farmer's…
|
137744
|
The man next door came over with a pitchfork.
|
1377117
|
They might think that loneliness has made me gullible, more than willing to open for them all kinds of drawers.
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