1350 15 8
|
But even if the truth
Never sets me free
I'll know this ain't the end of me
|
134910
|
I remember a time when Calvin, my husband, was like Winnie the Pooh and I was a jar of fine Provençal honey. No amount of my sweetness could satisfy his craving for me. He would spread me on his toast with butter at breakfast and mix me with peanut butter
|
134900
|
Her friend had been drunk, and sometimes after two or three quarts of beer, he'd tell people that he was Jewish.
|
134900
|
He started to concentrate on the music again. It was the album with the crazy picture of Monk on the cover, with a machine gun over his shoulder, a tied-up Gestapo officer and a female resistance fighter standing next to—a cow.
|
134900
|
“I swear that man is a force of nature.” This was her mother's way of describing her father whenever her mother came too close to the precipice. While growing up, she could never allow herself to fully acknowledge the meaning behind her mother's…
|
134943
|
I got one good hubcap
I lost the other 3
I just don’t know
What the heck is wrong with me
I got one good hubcap
As you can plainly see
The other 3 were seen
Just a-hanging from a tree
That’s what must’ve happened
When I ran my car ri
|
134911
|
“Okay,” Boris said, wiping his mouth, “ready to go see these paintings by Lenin? We go now.”
“Where are these paintings exactly?” Ellen of Troy (NY) asked. I didn’t mention which Troy she was from.
“I have friend in Prague,” Vladimir said. “Has sh
|
134932
|
Self-possession. He had it. In his arctic white t-shirt; blonde haired, broad shouldered, unburdened. “I will make you love me,” he had said, in a bar.
|
134961
|
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
|
134943
|
A convoy of military vehicles is heading into the city as we are heading out.
|
134952
|
“My name is Violet,” I add. I am trying to stop lying. Going without cigarettes has been easier.
|
134900
|
It must have been then and in those days and during that time when the grass and short brush, like so much amber and jade, emerged from the snow and the poet Li Po, who while traveling within the ten thousand crags of the Tanggula Mountains, looked up…
|
134900
|
"Man, I'd love to do coke chopped up with the remains of this motherfucker," he said as the unicorn's head smacked against the screen of his netbook for the 12,364th time.
|
1349117
|
--small chin, timid mouth, frail nose, weak narrow-set eyes--
|
1349178
|
|
134997
|
perhaps I am only being transported not for replacement but for repair
|
134832
|
[VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.]
|
134800
|
They've put down roots under the dome. Want to push through the ceiling, blot out the sun. I have other plans.
|
134833
|
how enthralled might you be, or how much appalled,/plucked from a fresh dream that had just grown serene?
|
134865
|
"I don't know why you say good-bye, I say hello."--The Beatles Things fall from the clouds. Things fall from thefloor. Maybe through, maybe all the way.Everyone argues for their homeland.Someday I'd like to hold your hand. I'mstill dreaming. I hope it continuesto rain…
|
134860
|
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…
|
134897
|
Is it my imagination, or is her chair afraid of her?
|
134800
|
No one would have picked me out of a crowd as the morbid one, but it was true that thoughts of easy exits floated through my consciousness regularly.
I did my research—the easy methods, painless, guaranteed methods—and felt prepared to do, well, w
|
134843
|
He began to chop the powdery substance and separate it into segments.
|
134830
|
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.
|
134892
|
i think god composed afternoons with crayons
|
134752
|
[...] A crimson post-it note/ illustrates the squiggle of a resting pulse wavering/
near the broken pencil leads and whorls of/soft wood which may be classed as evidence.
|
134766
|
The moon, a cataract cloaked in its charcoal fog, slowly seeps among the trees; night's unguent.Its glance is constant and white,its arc known. I watch its brow of bone with constant wonder.The long, slow funeral of America is taking its time; its…
|
134786
|
It’s not that cold but the cold that is/
penetrates layered cloth and soft skin/
to chill the blood in its capillaries
|
134722
|
By dawn, she is ready to hunt.
|
