1235 2 2
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...she did wish she lived somewhere in Ancient Rome, and from one of those seven hills, perhaps during sunset, she would resolve to roll down and meet the flaming orb just as it descended so she would dissolve into embers and ash...
|
123522
|
the injured color wheel of the world
|
123544
|
I may have gone
A little soft in the brain
But I swear I still see it
The angel closes the rain
Even God has to refrain
From causing us pain
When the angel closes the rain
So the angel closes the rain
At the end of time
The angel mus
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123520
|
I barely scraped the sleep out of my eyes when I heard the shrill crying from outside the kitchen window, and I recalled one of the many reasons cats can't be trusted. You see, they're evolutionarily wired to imitate the sound of a crying human baby, so when they…
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123444
|
The first time that
Beethoven’s Fifth was played,
people ran into the streets.
|
123442
|
So we stayed on the train admiring the time.
|
123480
|
|
123401
|
The Devil’s laugh was the screech of wind. Ignacio Carillo heard Him as he dug the grave that would hold the body of his beloved wife.
|
123451
|
At 19 words, the whole piece is a snippet.
|
123444
|
You go out on a night with no moon, when all the stars are flush in the sky, when all of everything, even you, is just a shadow moving softly, and I swear, you can hear it, if you listen hard enough. The music. It’s like it’s coming from under the ground.
|
12341912
|
She's not a poet, but does she have to be? She comes to the reading to read the poems of her recently dead husband, for she made a vow: that she would read his work at an open mic. Now she is keeping her word. It's her way of keeping him alive or maybe it's his way of…
|
123451
|
Bardan O'Connor stared at himself in the mirror but didn't recognize the image before him. He was pale and looked like death. He tried to psyche himself up for the latest show with a shot of Irish whiskey. He slapped himself hard in the face. "Get it together man." The…
|
123444
|
What’s your favorite emotion? Mine is ripping the sky apart and standing on a star outside of time.
|
123444
|
The man next door came over with a pitchfork.
|
123400
|
The moon bulges with meticulous sick amber fire while first night’s chest heaves and sputters free infantine monstrosity from plague-wormed hovels, din mold choked grottos, and stale metal-cast labyrinth catacombs.
|
123421
|
Did I refer to Mark Twain’s typewriter as an animal? Did I call it a hyena? I would not say that about Mark Twain’s typewriter.
|
123400
|
We transplant helix° splices and
shoot back to meet our former selves, zip the
scrolls, and save the world. Then you said spin
so I twisted my jumper over and
over in
endless folds like lips, like vaginas, like
seacreatures
|
123497
|
I’m on Discord but I don’t know how to do anything.
|
123411
|
I survived as a brave thought,
|
123463
|
I signed up for functional
I did not ask for this mixed bag
of broken glass
I have enough to swallow
|
123300
|
Most women simply don’t want damaged goods. That’s a fact I’ve been brought face to face with throughout my life. It's something you can continue crushing your brains against, like an impossibly high hurdle. At first you take the damage without unde
|
1233109
|
Your tunamelt cadence / Sank me to ocean floors
|
123300
|
-Someone could have boosted this easy as pie, Ben said to himself.
|
1233145
|
“In other words you're going to lie through your teeth..."
|
1233120
|
Your son is six feet tall in the sixth grade. By his sophomore year of high school, he outweighs you by a hundred pounds. He's been offered four football scholarships and one for a sport he's never played. Every morning his mother, your ex ex-wife, makes his breakfast of a…
|
1233111
|
I imagined cool, wet clay oozing between my fingers when I'd squeeze a tight fistful.
|
123322
|
By dawn, she is ready to hunt.
|
123331
|
They’re coming now. Thousands of them. Black wings, antennas, spindly legs.
|
123344
|
Poems reflect their poets. /
Mine: ugly but loved. /
It is just as well.
|
123371
|
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…
|
