1369 1 0
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they say the sense of smell is the strongest sense connected to memory, but not for me
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136911
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Been running so long
You've been running so long
I bet you can't remember
What you're running from
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136833
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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?”
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136831
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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.”
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136862
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One of his operas was confiscated when he couldn’t pay a hotel bill. He ended up in a mental home, demented from syphilis.
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136811
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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
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136853
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"Do you kiss all of your models?"
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136800
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Our deepest, most heartfelt apologies about the recent MySpace Bulletin, which mentioned your name and recent film and quoted you in jest. Your fifteen-page retalitory riposte was received by this office this morning, via fax sent by your assistant.
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136833
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had I gotten home without knowing it? well . . .
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136822
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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...
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136853
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while the fat stars stand out in the cobalt night.
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136786
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That is a six-word story. Notice that the meaning does not change with the word count. Syllabic count: pentameter (ten). Keep these commas.
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136720
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They shoveled coal into the furnace of the city so the ghosts would be warm for their haunting.
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136753
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The cats sniff at the small opening,/
one by one, in a furtive casualness./
They think the outside air is sweet
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136721
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I tell him if he wants to impress a girl he should learn to cook. He shifts his body. I add, crab cakes work well.
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136763
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When nothing's coming in All I have are fragments Cloudy memories Uncompleted projects Disappointments loom large and threaten to define me I am only as good as what I produce And now I feel empty So how do I shine How do I find the spark that…
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136742
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—Man, what a tearjerker way to end an interview, said Ben.
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136744
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Poems reflect their poets. /
Mine: ugly but loved. /
It is just as well.
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136700
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My heart was a puzzle completely incomplete,
until I learned of love in your embrace.
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136787
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. . . the roar of fire speaks lasting heat . . . .
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136744
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That night, when Nostalgia knocked on my door just before dawn, I had just enough time to catch her coat as she slipped it off and staggered into my apartment.
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136754
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What the hell is going on out here!? Yelled the man with the shotgun
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136674
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An eternity in a crashing moment.
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136600
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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.
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136695
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136622
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136632
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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.
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136661
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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
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136677
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I saw the shiny dime . . . .
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136632
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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
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