I told about the time during the early part of WW II when I shook hands with a member of the Flying Tigers. He was home on leave, and he stopped by to see my dad, who had been his scout master.

I heard that Hollywood is remaking “Thelma and Louise” with Christina Ricci and that dark haired girl who worked on a show that plays on the television. I heard it either from the internet or from a dream. I thought about looking it up, but I don't…

The mannequin’s blind eyes, open, green, serene, Look away from the cross, her hand Against our crotch, against Our suffering, our agony of being Alive and beating warm.

“I fly in my dreams,” his mother said. “It's my privilege.”

Howling, prowling, yowling Baby Dykes, stalkin' chicks, throwin' fits, takin' hits! A thousand thigh divin', rosebud nipped, fur licking dancin' cats, (Claws in, claws out! Yes!) sniffin' that cradle of love.

His cheeks were extremely pink but the pink was not the shade usually associated with good health, it was the pink of Death.

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It's not a funeral. Nobody to mourn over.

We are a city of overworked workers.

Seems hot for a Thursday, doesn’t it?

You have at least an intermittent belief.

The young monk rose early to jog, his appetites trailing like cats in heat.

“A lot of kids–granted, kids who aren’t too bright–will choose a school because of its mascot, and that’s what Chipper is all about,” he says.

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…

Clasped his hands behind his head to give a moment’s thought to love and how it had never quite clarified in his mind to run pure and sweet.