1079 2 2
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Too young to stay interested for long in the words I was reading. My father said the man was very intelligent and most of his writing was hard to understand.
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1079105
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The light they love to hate so much is always pulsating within each life; the unbelievable color sword of what happens next when any two people find each other in their hearts and all pretense is somehow gone, for at…
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107900
|
Marie Poupon-Kennedy wasn’t strangled by one set of hands; there were thirty sets around that long, pale neck.
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107900
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"It all began with a painting," I said. "Mostly blue. Acrylic. Naturalistic in a modern sense. She was stylized but recognizable, and her breasts were exposed. Everyone could see her disordered skirt. The painter was a fan of Herrick.
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107984
|
He had become an accessory to a murder.
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107994
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My dad / always had a fondness for Raleigh’s kind of loss
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107975
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Beneath an opal moon, the open field and wilderness across it look immersed in varying shades of blue. A strong night howler blows across a little girl's face as she walks the field as if in a trance; her whole visage framed against the backdrop of this very act …
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107971
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The sound of a siren approaches his home. His wife asks him why he's so nervous. It's nothing, he says, but he rises from the couch and peers into the night from behind the curtains. The siren approaches relentlessly. The road twists and turns and the sound fades but always…
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107930
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The last time my old lady threw me out, I decided to go and stay with my brother. I thought, "That's the last place I'll be welcome," and I knew that was true. The drive was calming, which was good, because Steven wouldn't have even let me in if I…
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107984
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I love the notion of uncertainty-/
which seems inherent/
at the level of particles-
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107822
|
All the baby monsters are being born on stage.
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107820
|
2. Travel To Somewhere Fascinating, Even In Your Own Back Yard!
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107843
|
Nature is perfect... We can never learn that much
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107800
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It was a bright day in April, the cruelest month, and the gears and pumps of the train beat on into the still air.
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107863
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If you shoot at them now, it'll be attempted murder or, worse, premeditated murder.
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107864
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It's not stories the quiet lack, but inclination...
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107811
|
It must be some sort of Freudian twist, but as her cold fingertips draw rings on my navel, I think of my mother. Here, her body watches my tongue, asking my lips to curl into the letters of her name. I can't get erect. I remember my mother's face—her eyes almost…
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107833
|
I will not leave the boat.
The sea has left you.
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107831
|
i ask you what i taste like and you say "not much."
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107832
|
|
107886
|
It’s not that cold but the cold that is/
penetrates layered cloth and soft skin/
to chill the blood in its capillaries
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107843
|
The blooms are practical/
and cannot see themselves
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107840
|
You read my poems, Not because you like them, But just to find yourself, Mentioned in them.
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107821
|
I go with the wind, like the smoke of this Marlboro red as it dances among the palm trees.
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107833
|
J., W., and W.’s girlfriend were exploring the nature and mores of homosexual conduct by discussing whether W. would be willing to suck J.’s cock.
|
107800
|
Who remains after the aching night has departed into dawn
and left us to week-old sleep
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10781710
|
I arrange my stones in circles
|
107864
|
|
107800
|
“Has a letter arrived for me?” Billy sat on the third stair from the bottom, drumming his little hands on his Spider-Man pyjama bottoms. “Dad!”
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107850
|
She sat Indian style against the strawberry tree. In her hand she held a little mirror and a note that her father left her that morning.
What a night, eh? See you in the morning.
That’s what it said.
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