1398 0 0
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"That it was my stepdad's fault."
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139842
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I remember this vivid dream I had once. Maybe you were in it? I’m not sure. There was a gang of spitting men outside this bar, standing beside a whole row of gleaming motorcycles, with tons of chrome, and I remember my dreams were their feathers. They
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139800
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Was he really a Secret Service guy? No time to think now! Quick as lightning, Rachel bounded over the sleeping matron and sprinted up the aisle.
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1398116
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Irony is written sarcasm. Sarcasm is spoken irony: the opposite of what is meant. Catholic irony in fiction seems deeper and more related to theme. Protestant irony starts with P as do other þing.
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1398158
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I believe I will become a bear, snuggle up in a deep cave, coil myself inside my fur, close my eyes on hurting images, turn a deaf ear to the uproar of the world. Bolt my door to the deceiving voices outside. Sleep. Forget. Wait, as we wait for spring, for the violet and…
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139845
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I sat at
the vast graveyard
of broken hearts
on the mending fence
of wonderment
unsealing the silence
of the wounds
I began to put the pieces
together
like a puzzle against
forgetting
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139877
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The arithmetic of human experience/
is always a losing game for some. Poor Jane. Rich Dick.
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139820
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Charley calls to say he hasn't heard from me. The blinds are gone, so I take a lipstick off the living room table and draw a circle around his head. I make a half-circle for his gut, a squiggle for the telephone cord. He can come over, he says, just to …
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139844
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instead of gun metal deceit, sounds of malice;be a drop of rain.
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139880
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She plucks two eggs from the carton, weighs and measures them with the cup of her palm, the curve of her fingers.
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139820
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"The rider rode his bike in Arizona just about every day and for all the usual reasons....."
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139784
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139732
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To conceive of them separated was unthinkable to every wet-eyed soul at the burial.
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1397105
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the poems/
we never got to will remain,
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139794
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Fear I’ll be stuck here without a ladder
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139700
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He ordered a palace built, and the builders came to blows, which is why the father’s eyes have swollen shut, and the oldest son’s knuckles are bright plums.
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139700
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“It's a combination of ‘Survivor' and ‘College Bowl' says Sister Mary Agnesita, the show's host. “We take four very strict nuns and match them up with boys who were cut-ups in their grade school classes."
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139765
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13971411
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I. The sun's corona. Empty boxes near the firehouse. Red birth. A bird's lost wing. II. The bitterness of littleness. Apples in a pile.Early love.A spider, swinging. III. A father's harshness.Twelve bills unpaid. Leaves in a crevice. A dream…
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139741
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I gently honked my horn and gave her the kind of friendly neighbor wave that only friendly neighbors can give. She didn’t wave back. What the hell is her problem?
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139753
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"All these people," Rammstein complained, "seems all they wanna do is write about love, and sex along with it, you know? And I think it's because it's all feelgood shit; you know, your sweet baby loves you, and he or she's hot as Angie or Brad, and…
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1396126
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Crouching like little children in a game of hide & seek, we entered the old house, slowly
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139600
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There were six people on the bridge, myself included, and we were making our way across when something exploded—it was more a rifle shot than explosion, actually—and it cut like a razor through the delicate fabric of the moment.
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139663
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Her Majesty’s Glasses
Umbilical Chord
Linger Finger
Okay Inkjet
The Dragon Flies
Horny
Free Spirit
Good Footnote
Buttery Clams
You’reUp
Empty Bladder
Star Butter
Karmic Impulse
Mr. On-the-Ve
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139642
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By lunch:
The dryer is an F-5 dervish of mismatched socks, blue jeans and your yellowing college T's, lovingly held onto. For a moment there is a comforting warmth and softness to their smell. In the debris strewn landscape of the living room a carcass
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139654
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Writing opens doors to perception. For example, the glockenspiel smells of gardenias, but the catwalk is opening a can of Franklin stove. It emits fumes of fairyland and olive. And in the green and pleasant country of Scotland and England, vintage trains go…
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139681
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Buck, naked, has no words. The best he can manage is a dopey strangulated cough. His wife, who is clothed, stands before him, next to the waterbed that took Buck half a day to force into the trailer.
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139621
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Okay, I’ll admit it, the earth was shaken on the world's underside, when you left for California. And I sometimes slept on the shores of Lake Michigan and Fox River for your tremendous thousand years’ charisma. To say I cried out in pain would be lettin
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139610
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He is underneath them. His head is like the head of a worm.
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139621
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He turned metal chains to rubber with the force of his mind. He prepared tacos for the paperboy.
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