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Most people come to dislike me because of the things I say.
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whenever i see youit feels like birds are flyingin and out of my facemy head is ghost-like and birds flythrough iti want to hold the birds insidemy head and turn them intosex maniacs
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You wouldn’t believe an organ the size of a heart could scream like a nine-year-old sissy girl but mine did.
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When the teacher was out of the room Myron pretended to play with himself, saying, “down boy” and smiling to the nervous gasping and fake coughs from the other classmates and, since he's my close friend, I think he does silly stuff like this to contend with…
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I could have said no. I should have said no. Prudence, however, was not in the air. Fourteen minutes later I am at the door of his condo a few blocks from Pier 39. Twenty minutes later I have wriggled into his extra wetsuit and am following him on his wif
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It was so dark below, there was only flashlights weaving about and headlights pointing in one direction.
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So, my wife got fired from her job for being three minutes late five times. But he had it in for her, the fatty boss. He was lazy and she was smart, in line for his job. And she had a workman's comp case against the hospital—she'd slipped in pudding in the cafeteria…
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Waiting for the light to turn, his mind wandered, wondering how it was that bridges of this sort collected stories. Old thru truss bridges with grated deckings, or any older bridge for that matter. The stories seemed to have died out since the concrete
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the mountains did change/became looming purplish waves/their spray washes us/we rinse slow 'neath lifted waves/that must be at least this tall.
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When not enough is left to utterThe syllables it takes to say,Goodbye--Disassembled and developed,Laid upon the ground,Like the girded gridlockOn your smog befitted brow...Goodbye.And what if I said, hello?What if I said, good day?Would it change your sunken bodyAnd repair…
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I heard a voice. It was calling me as from a far-off cloud. I listened, holding my breath, and heard it again, though fading away, barely audible. If I hadn't known my name I wouldn't have decrypted it. Three hazy syllables clearly detached with a sigh between each of them.…
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She heads toward the end of the island and doesn't look back.
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[WE'LL LET *YOU* BE THE JUDGE!]
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this bleeding sun, clove studded & seedless
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Moonless sky of stars, silently flickered by bats, with constellations defined and bold. The curve of the plough matching that of your shoulder, as if it were a decoration.
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He tells me that he thinks he reached out as he needed healing
and I wonder if I should diagnose him on the spot,
explain what years of therapy taught me about him.
I don't.
Instead I compliment a photograph of the pot plants he grows, organic,
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The first indication I had of what I look like came when a man put me back on the rack, remarking that I was too pink. Over the weeks that followed, I gained a few more ideas about my appearance from the comments of people in the shop. My photographic side had been…
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Now I know
All you need is coffee
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No freebies. You want to read it, you have to read all of it.
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My relationship with Uzma exists on several levels, from basic to abstract, from animal magnetism to spiritual journey.
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1. Pharmacy Randy approached the counter. It appeared that the only person in the pharmacy was the pharmacist himself, Mr. Crubby, and from the sound of the stiff white bag crumpling he was busy saving someone's life, or at least ameliorating someone's …
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Friday afternoon. Angelique Brody knocked Francesco’s studio door.
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“Damn!” he said to himself, wondering for the millionth time what he was doing in such a sad line of work. Break time, he decided, grabbing his stash box and locking himself into the freezing cold bathroom to smoke a joint.
He emerged thirty minutes la
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Publisehd in Linguistic Erosionhttp://www.linguisticerosion.com/2014/08/the-frog.html When Jesus and Magdalene began to cross the sunflower field they met a group of boys, squatting before a rocky outcrop. Covered with…
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Don’t get me wrong. Maria Shriver is hot, but her angled face makes me think a knife thrower is out to get me.
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She stood for a moment to think about what happened inside.
She had just killed her husband of twenty three years.
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You are rounded just the way the mountain is, out the window. The sun sets on both of you now. Three of you, I should say: the mountain, and you, and little Frank, who is currently batting my ear because he doesn't want to be named Frank but it's for your dead father,…
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The gated community of Dos was named for one of Babbage’s landmark educational figures, Ms. Dos.
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I saw three kids the other day, two girls and a boy, crouched in conspiracy
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