1343 1 1
|
It was in his teeth. A blackness, a subscription to an outsideness, a painful contraction of burnt out trees scattered there among sand drifts and tidal debris. His face, lightly weathered and troubled, a tightness built into eyes of thought and separation. His arms, strong…
|
134387
|
arrogant, sullen,/
supple and ambiguous,//
English seems the ideal tongue
|
134321
|
Everyone is tromping around in work boots like an army of happy gardeners. The park is smiling from all this attention, from the sound of kids who think work is play. It's not even sunny but we don't mind. I know you don't. Grey days are just as good. They've…
|
134372
|
The bus was almost empty, just me and an Asian girl who'd cleaned up some since I'd seen her. She was wearing a too-big T-shirt that said Freakuccino and writing in a notebook. If she remembered me she didn't say so I didn't either. Everybody sheds some…
|
134311
|
“Omaha is filled with fine clothing stores for men,” he says, “all of them doing very well. Whereas Minneapolis is a different story altogether.” I am trying to sleep in seat 26C. 26B is occupied by Mildred who has already introduced herself,…
|
134384
|
He thought of it as magic, but magic that he understood, the way a magician knows about the hidden compartments in his hat and trunks.
|
134300
|
Welcome to the world of (un)reality television. He/she who dies with the most stories wins. Another kind of religion. The Church of Being Famous For Whatever.
|
134333
|
No preview available due to the brevity of the piece. In fact, this comment itself is longer than the piece.
|
134332
|
|
134231
|
NO IDEAS FROM HERE Tape The knife that tore the envelope tore the apricot. What was it? Water The boxes ranked against the open room. Watch So it was cut the water bright the tub. Say …
|
134253
|
He slathered the glue on my scalp and talked non-stop about Harlem. Electrodes or nodes, I never asked which, would measure something inside my head. I doubt they actually did though, measure anything. I've had the pleasure of having wires glued to my skull before and have…
|
1342137
|
Expose those for whom freedom is greed.
|
134210
|
machine utility of thought,
intangible aesthetic of sentiment.
|
134261
|
I remember one time that summer I was with you (1964) going to a bar in maybe it was Melrose Park, or Northlake, or somewhere along Roosevelt Road closer to Chicago, not as far as Cicero though. I went there with a crazy gear-head named Roger Hudson, wh
|
134242
|
—Man, what a tearjerker way to end an interview, said Ben.
|
134260
|
Where the fuck are my keys?Where the hell is my phone?Where the fuck are my keys?Where the hell is my phone?Where the fuck are my keys?Where the hell is my phone?Where the fuck are my keys?Where the hell is my phone?Where the fuck are my keys?Where the hell is my…
|
134200
|
I hate buying shirts. There's no point. You need a shirt, you go to the library.
|
134287
|
In the quiet dark, fathers reappear.
|
134222
|
In frustration, he picked up a hammer and slammed it straight into the center of the mask.
|
134130
|
Get a Hold of God
Get a hold of God, will you?
I have seen a lot
I saw
a Great Dane
licking the dew off
an orange bird of
paradise
Get a hold of God
and tell him that
Get a hold of God
and give him a piece of
my m
|
134133
|
His friend Boner, who was more accurately a friend of Milo, who was a friend of his cousin in Dubai and who had, up until this post, seemed to share thoughts in common with him, posted, “Holy Shit, Dude! What’re You On?”
|
134154
|
Suddenly, the room was filled with a screaming vortex directed at a pinpoint in the corner. Timmy's bureau was gone and everything loose in the room was flying towards the spot it had occupied. Timmy stood up in horror. He tried to seal this rent by tossi
|
134141
|
CALENTURE The horizon is marked with the still sculptures of dead gulls; A young man floats off slowly on the…
|
134100
|
When we crossed the California/Oregon border, I had this
vivid image of sleeping bags filled with human bones. I shook
my head and the scene would not go away. The woods must be
full of dead campers, hitch hikers, run-a-ways, and black
teenage whores
|
134172
|
and the President didn't call.
|
134132
|
I guess it was, you know, a daze thing: He, lightly drunk, turning red in parts of his head, in his cheeks mostly, and his chest, to which my eyes were drawn because of his v-neck douchebag shirt; and I, sleepy beyond belief, sustained like a zombie only
|
134152
|
“My name is Violet,” I add. I am trying to stop lying. Going without cigarettes has been easier.
|
13411411
|
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…
|
134164
|
Light spreads its way across the sky like a drop of inkon dry cotton sheets:starts at one point and expandsas wind shufflesover bodies, seashoist your sailsand I'll throw this oneoverthe night can have itnowhear the waveshow they seem satisfiedwith their…
|
134133
|
had I gotten home without knowing it? well . . .
|
