1392 8 7
|
. . . the roar of fire speaks lasting heat . . . .
|
139276
|
A phrase, a sentence, a stanza,/
sounds among the sums and lists/
and starts a scratched cascade/
of syllables and other approximations--
|
139221
|
I have never known how gold this time of year, With its palladium arcade, was, of the trees That do not sense the pleasure of their silence; Trees are egalitarian, they do not speak But concourse among themselves, consent to join us At this moment breathing…
|
139142
|
III. Through wheelwind crypts of mystery, through…
|
139130
|
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
|
1391115
|
You burnish what is left
until it shines and call it
your own.
|
139144
|
the view is
breathtaking here.
|
1391116
|
Ok, so I know this guy, he's a friend of mine. A good friend, even though I think he's left too big a tip on the bar more than once. His name is Frank.
|
139151
|
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…
|
139111
|
The man was sitting at his makeshift kitchen table. He was forty-five years old. He wore his mortarboard with tassel whenever he left his home. Once inside either a reputable establishment or one generally considered less so, he was sure to take off his m
|
139130
|
These are not the caffeinated men of barbaric lore.
|
139163
|
On the phone I asked my mother how she was doing.
“I’m getting old,” she said. “Going slow. But getting there. I’m ninety-four!”
My mother was always 94, when she was really 93. I remember she was 93 right after she turned 92. And 92
|
139122
|
|
139143
|
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…
|
139165
|
You don’t want to tango with me, she said.
|
139120
|
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.
|
139142
|
It was almost like I was dreaming, he is saying, my visit to the ruins of the factory that made the first Narrative Machines.
|
139111
|
I noticed Sean changed after his grounding. We no longer played night soldiers around the block, no longer biked to the creek to catch crayfish he'd crush with his boots. Sean stopped hunting lizards, stopped charging smaller kids toll to pass…
|
139000
|
Breasts were developed after World War II, the result of improved nutrition and the additional muscle mass that “Rosie the Riveter”-types acquired through manual labor in jobs that males abandoned to join the war effort.
|
139065
|
A nuclear-plant fuel rod engineer, Dimitri Kastrotov, had an axe to grind, so invented an atomic deterrent, to counterbalance mankind. He targeted the filthy rich, greedy sons of a bitch, breeding war, weapons and nukes at a reckless fever pitch After …
|
139031
|
When Beez and I were visiting D.C., Beez saw MDW after many years and said, almost so that MDW could hear him if he wished, “His hair looks like Beethoven’s.”
|
139010
|
|
139041
|
A bum leaves his shopping cart
in the middle of the intersection
at 7th Ave and Perry St
and walks away
leaving everything behind
Shopping cart gets hit
by an onslaught of
yellow taxis whizzing by
The contents flying out
into the hum
|
139011
|
As clever as clean bed sheets
|
139084
|
|
139042
|
—Man, what a tearjerker way to end an interview, said Ben.
|
139000
|
The Series Finale of 'Arcana Magi Zero' and 'Arcana Magi Pure'
|
139001
|
Miranda hugged Madam Mayweather as the girls, except Akane, gathered around them.
|
139085
|
Mom would dig through one of her music boxes to pick out Saturday morning's cleaning jams. Tattered, battered Payless shoeboxes with lids ripped to shit, filled to capacity with piles of cassettes; greatest hits albums, mostly, or Time Life compilations of mid-to-late…
|
139074
|
Last night was full of little fists
|
