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I barely scraped the sleep out of my eyes when I heard the shrill crying from outside the kitchen window, and I recalled one of the many reasons cats can't be trusted. You see, they're evolutionarily wired to imitate the sound of a crying human baby, so when they…
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137021
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There’s something Dad’s been telling us
that I don’t think is true
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136900
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Creatures of the dark don’t follow daylight savings
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136954
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At night, we’d sleep in our usual spots on the edge of the bed - Becca on the left, me on the right with Hanna in the middle as before the accident.
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136975
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Forgive the doctor/
his hypocrisy -
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136900
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“Now, “Pour Some Sugar on Me” is a hit of the eighties.”
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136922
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136910
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Seems hot for a Thursday, doesn’t it?
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136961
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I am surprised that you’re not famous already. I remember sitting in your bedroom for hours just watching you while you wrote poetry. I was in awe of you, thinking you were going to be the next Dylan Thomas! Or Bob Dylan. Or Dylan Somebody! And I rememb
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136952
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“My name is Violet,” I add. I am trying to stop lying. Going without cigarettes has been easier.
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136900
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the odd stone stands/taller than trees/it protrudes from the young forest/an old mecca but smooth
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136921
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Dawn is a grey mass, what is left of the night's chill slips between my t-shirt and belly skin. Somewhere else you once wrote that being loved when you don't love in return equals rape.
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136933
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had I gotten home without knowing it? well . . .
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136943
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He began to chop the powdery substance and separate it into segments.
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136853
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you look like
the insides of my cheeks
chewed.
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136810
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at the front of the bus/ sways a white-veiled woman:/ gnarled hands upon/ a bag of palms,
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136832
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The retina was burning, the liquid had dried up, and the veins bursting. My eyes bled. But I kept them open. The sound was like nails on glass, screeching endlessly. Coming close to me louder, harder, faster.
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136821
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“The minute I stopped wondering about
the meaning of life is when I
finally started enjoying life.”
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136841
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the cocksucking of strategic death planning
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136811
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“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
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136843
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My accordion's name is Sophia and she is from Italy. She was born in fairytale fashion, the way my life in Madrid can sometimes be. A great and nurturing friend gathered money from many friends in our village, to buy me an accordion for my birthday. It was…
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1368128
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meditation and thoughts run in circles
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136811
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Joseph and his little brother, Kevin, were there again. Kevin was too small to understand what had happened yet. He would usually just go off, running around the statues and playing with the wreaths; the last time they'd visited he climbed a tree and broke one of the…
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136832
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Over the last years of her life, my mornings began when Mom decided to play. Sitting on her black, ball-and-claw stool, she'd raise the key cover, stretch her neck and shoulders, and take slow, deliberate breaths. A deep, meditative state descended over the room and…
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136800
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Who remains after the aching night has departed into dawn
and left us to week-old sleep
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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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1. The Grizzlies met with the other forest animals for a meeting about voting rights. I was there too, you know, to prevent chaos or something. 2. Mom didn't like it when I took in a …
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136863
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Can we meet in the desert,
I will stand with a cactus flower clenched
between my teeth and balance en pointe.
I will tame snakes and find your serpent
tongue with my eyes closed.
I will usher in the clouds, when it grows hot,
and, should you becom
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136843
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Daylight and cold sensed as an abstract, a number in my mind. Air thin, polluted, lacking oxygen. But the Recyclers are at it again.
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136830
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There was something about the boy that made me uneasy. Maybe it was the reverse widow's peak on his forehead or the way he wiped away his snot with the back of his hand. It could have been his red flannel shirt that reminded me of the hillbillies from the mountain…
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