1414 15 7
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She sings off-key while her married lover shadow-boxes his one-dimensional and split-off selves.
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141488
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Then he said something that really made sense, said he kept a blank check in his back pocket...
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141465
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Mother hated a crucifix. Graven, she said. Evidence that Catholics weren't saved, just stuck in ceremony. Jesus had risen and anyone who had to pray in Latin, count beads or confess to robed men who took orders from a monarch didn't know…
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141430
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On his knees in front of the transplant board, he pleaded for his ailing heart, spluttering on its last dying beats, to be replaced with a bomb.
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141420
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These fern-like weeds grow along the roads. “Watch this,” you say, bending down over a plant. The touch of your fingertip sets it recoiling, stunned–a fun, jungle trick you picked up somewhere along your way.
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141452
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If Heaven holds forth its own Infinity, What of selves, of ours, could we stand to see? Cradled with harsh fangs of Memory, Deep forgetfulness, give rather me- Let bright dreams be our self's divinity: Forever holds, in morrow's hours, such little…
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141320
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2. Travel To Somewhere Fascinating, Even In Your Own Back Yard!
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141342
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So we stayed on the train admiring the time.
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141310
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I do not jerk up to sirens birds doorbell shouts hello hello through the letterbox hello
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141365
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141311
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I lost my job but the government found me a new one. Now the government pays me to pretend I’m a travelling businessman. I fly around the country to imaginary meetings. It’s part of a project to make it look like the economy is doing well.
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141320
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The possum is sneering with truth. I can smell the blood under his fingernails. He has seen it all, the backwoods distilleries and the back porch propane grilles. He has slept under the beds of whores and kings alike.
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141343
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141331
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My first time alone with the women in Saudi Arabia...
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141300
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It was the woman, Mary Lou Compton, that he cared about. They would've been happily married by now if Bryce hadn't killed his Uncle Ned.
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141387
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. . . the roar of fire speaks lasting heat . . . .
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141274
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An eternity in a crashing moment.
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141244
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the view is
breathtaking here.
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141221
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But you're everywhere, how can I move on? It's so easy for people to say, Get over it, the ‘it' being the smell of your skin, your smile, the taste of your lips, always sweet and salty, like a carnival treat. Remember that neon night when we knew it was over, how we…
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14121610
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We're in a sedate forest next to a boisterous beach. The sky is sea green above the trees and forest green above Sinepuxent Bay. Chaste squirrels are keeping a lookout for bad-boy gulls. Kids on circus bikes ride out of the woods into their bathing suits. The…
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141265
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Posit butterflies/
as evidence of heavenly design.
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141243
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The one-legged crow was back in the yard again. It was there yesterday and maybe before, but yesterday was the first time I noticed it. I've been using my binoculars lately. It is interesting to me...to bring things closer. And it's not just birds, but other things like the…
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141265
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You don’t want to tango with me, she said.
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141222
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Inspired by the photographic work of Susan Lipper. Grapevine series, 1988-92.
http://susanlipper.com/gv_23.html
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141275
|
it acquires a fine translucence
|
141255
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Wish more than ever there was a more perfect way to mean everything I say. If I could I'd certainly walk all my words right up to your face now and give them over, hand to hand so to speak. That's the point at which I'd very much…
|
141200
|
Famus Peepul Ellen and her boy, Larson, were on the second floor of The Monsters restaurant, searching for the fortuneteller. Larson had decided her signature was a necessary addition to his autograph book. He hadn't asked for her autograph…
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141232
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she sees that no one has considered her needsshe feels left out, and so she strikes outon the offensive, nostrils flaringpoints her finger and makes her caseshe has been wronged, justified in her angershe will not back downthe accused one is hurtstrikes back with her own…
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141153
|
—Mr. Martinelli, can you explain how you developed your painting technique?
|
141121
|
The artist with fork and trowel.
The paint; soil, seed, seedling or plug.
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