1230 2 0
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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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122900
|
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.
|
122997
|
“I fly in my dreams,” his mother said. “It's my privilege.”
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122964
|
It's not stories the quiet lack, but inclination...
|
122994
|
My time glass allocation nears its end.
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122900
|
The Black night reached under his shiny silk jacket
And touched the steamy leather of his holster.
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122911
|
Our revolutionaries
Have evolved into gamekeepers
|
122954
|
Guttering semiotics, The jeremiads of delirium; Drinking lukewarm tea over a late candle Like Hamlet in a power-cut; Affecting his own audience of himself, Hastening soliloquies through gritted sophisms, Withered and spun to intentional…
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122966
|
And pity us, this generation of sighing:
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122921
|
How much sucking, faithlessly, can there be? The body being a night thing off which steam rises, that attracts like a magnet or loadstone, whose curls attract, whose ringlets or tufts of touched hair between the legs glory up the nightly watched miracle,
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122940
|
A group of us from work are playing cards at a friend's house, so when my brother Jimmy calls, I take my phone into the other room. I already know what it's about, really the only reason he ever calls these days.“Look, I hate to ask,” he begins, the way he…
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122976
|
A phrase, a sentence, a stanza,/
sounds among the sums and lists/
and starts a scratched cascade/
of syllables and other approximations--
|
122942
|
whatever weaknesses you displayed//
as empathetic human fellow traveler,/
your command of English survives you,//
on into the last echoes of the human/
once we’re gone.
|
122821
|
It made him feel better to imagine she was someone else, someone he didn't know. This comfort bothered him
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122822
|
“plain before my eyes” said he eyes swathed in bandages covering sight
oozing yellow fluid is this life thought i
|
1228105
|
I am studying the way/
dust bunnies emerge, grow/
and apparently reproduce.
|
122865
|
|
122800
|
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
|
122800
|
The music is too loud in here and it's hurting my ears. I know some of the words to the songs because my older sister listens to the same stuff when she's in her bedroom and is playing her iPod and my dad yells at her to turn that crap down. I like my dad. He calls me…
|
12282110
|
--"Look at us," she murmurs. "Tristan and Isolde without the adultery."
--"Well, you can't have everything."
--"No? I heard otherwise."
|
122841
|
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
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122820
|
I drove all night, but there weren’t nothing Roy Orbison about it. I’d been driving and around lunchtime I just thought I might stop by Shona’s place.
|
1228128
|
My mother should have been a minister or a peace officer. Instead, she was a homemaker who ran the home like an agency. There were certain hard and fast rules.
|
122832
|
The young monk rose early to jog,
his appetites trailing like
cats in heat.
|
122832
|
Lying in the blissful glow of young television.
Idly sleeping, eyes open and ears closed.
|
122832
|
beyond knowing that when it hits you, you've been very much run over, and flattened like a stack of cardboard pancakes. I've seen it all before, and it works all right I guess. But my oh my, my, my oh thank you Jesus, to…
|
122711
|
We can’t see anything except for glimpses of the other’s eyes, hands, mouths when we move.
|
122723
|
A little boy sits at the table. He hears a knock at the door.“Mo-om!” the boy calls out. “Door!”His mother comes from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her clothing.“Jesus!” she says. “Would it kill you to answer the…
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122761
|
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
|
122743
|
Reams of saggy bunting intersect the streets.
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