1244 3 3
|
You and she might make love here, next week,
and I'll buy my own razor, switch from baths to showers.
I shave my legs in my imagination.
They, like life, are smooth.
|
124411
|
A horn honks, brakes squeal, Chloe’s screaming, pulling at her. She’s lying on the sidewalk. Her shin hurts. Her knee. Chloe kneels beside her. Ring of kids staring. I’m good, she says. I’m good.
|
124442
|
Frank was happy to leave the art show and take the train back to SoHo.
|
124463
|
On the phone I asked my mother how she was doing.
“I’m getting old,” she said. “Going slow. But getting there. I’m ninety-four!”
My mother was always 94, when she was really 93. I remember she was 93 right after she turned 92. And 92
|
124494
|
Fear I’ll be stuck here without a ladder
|
12441612
|
I am experience and information//
at a small but irredeemable remove.
|
124421
|
In the living room of a model home, Mr. Jorgensen lived. He was a mannequin. He spent his days in display windows. He spent his commutes displaying the latest model cars.
|
124411
|
“I want you to face the toys!”
|
124466
|
circumstances//
squeeze the heart so hard/
that you should die but don’t.
|
124467
|
Lights of human occupation burn/
in patterns like the growth/
of a bacillus, lethal and prodigious,
|
124421
|
She positioned the mouse cursor over the word Bikini and double clicked. The hard drive of the ageing work PC chugged into life as an Excel document dragged itself onto the screen.
|
124455
|
Like when she said the word 'but', it came out ‘bet’.
|
1244122
|
full of mad hope / we dash into the street / leap into the fray / and enter splendiferous lists
|
124300
|
the strength in you i envy/ leaves me naked, sweating in the dust/ while you possess what ethic i pretend to have/ in the face of those who expect from me/ so much more.
|
124300
|
She once told me that cleanliness is next to godliness, but I think everything is next to godliness, if you care enough to pay attention.
|
124398
|
This is what happens when a writer falls in love...
|
124351
|
Six months passed and the lovers decided speaking was no longer a necessary component in their relationship. They did this over breakfast, delicately spooning pink triangles of grapefruit into their mouths. Not a word spoken.
|
124322
|
For Takama this created the second conundrum of the day. One even bigger than the first. When he’d first learnt that sensei and he would be boarding a flight together for a series of demonstrations in Geneva, little had he expected he would be locked up i
|
124365
|
Clasped his hands behind his head to give a moment’s thought to love and how it had never quite clarified in his mind to run pure and sweet.
|
124373
|
Granddad listened to Elvis and then he would talk more or less the entire night. “Mystery Train” was Sam Phillips' song. Then Presley recorded it, but did it up different, sounded much faster so you could feel your hair blow back a bit. …
|
124300
|
About three dozen people, the doctor told him, dwelt in the small village until there had been a dry spell—a drought the likes of which no one in the region had ever seen before. Theories abounded as to the cause of the drought as theories do: a curse by
|
124343
|
I got the news that you had died as I was
eating American chop suey, watching the Celtics.
|
124210
|
|
124222
|
I had the idea while I was in the county jail. I would get jail glasses; I wouldn’t be me; I’d be some other person. I could pretend that it was someone else rotting away in that 8x12 cell.
|
1242157
|
It seems that back in 1911, Kaiser Wilhelm came to this town
|
124296
|
Wind was a sorry excuse for force
|
124222
|
We Must Save Ourselves I'm looking for my savior on subways, Is he this man pushing half himself On a skate board, from car to car, Singing I have no Legs, I have no Legs, I'm looking for my savior in coffee shops Of…
|
124252
|
It's morning, and the cold black hull of branches sets my resting pier, Amid this drizzle, underneath the poignant pain of birches, wrecked By floods of midyear grieving; wraithlike, Dawn's been becked To paint in shafts of faded rose that shades the fen…
|
124254
|
|
1242157
|
Cacophony of an engine-braking eighteen-wheeler/
scatters the crows to fences, trees and wires/
in a startling chant of caw, caw, caw.
|
