1245 2 1
|
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.
|
1244 3 2
|
... she’d stolen her boyfriend away from her, leaving her with a goldfish and a cat. Oh, and a pillow and some lights, she added. And I can’t really see you, because I’m blind.
|
1244 7 2
|
She pulled the book off its shelf. It meant something else now. He'd quote her in the mirror, at the backs of buses that kept her moving, something she'd said without saying. He would remember for them. She'd forget, without him, the way she wanted. Garland and lights were…
|
1244 0 0
|
He ordered a palace built, and the builders came to blows, which is why the father’s eyes have swollen shut, and the oldest son’s knuckles are bright plums.
|
1244 4 2
|
you can reach me at
hashtag this!
|
1244 4 5
|
I sat at
the vast graveyard
of broken hearts
on the mending fence
of wonderment
unsealing the silence
of the wounds
I began to put the pieces
together
like a puzzle against
forgetting
|
1244 1 1
|
A man in Watchupecka, OH, was charged Wednesday night with drunken driving in heavy traffic in downtown Watchupecka when he failed to stop for a red light.
|
1244 8 4
|
I love the notion of uncertainty-/
which seems inherent/
at the level of particles-
|
1243 8 7
|
arrogant, sullen,/
supple and ambiguous,//
English seems the ideal tongue
|
1243 1 1
|
Before Uncle Max died of a heart attack, he had some words of advice for his only nephew and godson. Upon his death, as instructed, a package in brown paper arrived at Jeffery Glimson’s house on a warm June afternoon.
|
1243 2 0
|
How many years has he dreamed he would be home again?
|
1243 2 1
|
Jade in the emperor’s death
mouth – to the grave – all openings
closed – no breath – no air – no life
to enter to leave – the end should
be silent – you stop my mouth
|
1243 9 7
|
Is it my imagination, or is her chair afraid of her?
|
1243 5 5
|
F Bomb I am coming in like a blackbird. Like I'm going to tickle your mud. I am coming in carrying a half-sunk message backward. Is that your lonesome answer? I am coming in to sweep for all saints. 'Course I didn't just wake up…
|
1243 3 0
|
On his knees in front of the transplant board, he pleaded for his ailing heart, spluttering on its last dying beats, to be replaced with a bomb.
|
1242 4 2
|
He adopts a stance known as Part the Wild Horse’s Mane but calls it a different name--the Part the Hair of the Skanky Barmaid for a Bleachjob position.
|
1242 4 1
|
The cicadas hissed and chirruped until the air was thick with a noise like mechanical bedsprings bouncing for the 4th of July.
|
1242 0 0
|
Oryn led Ragnorak to a window. It was darkened in the corners with only a red light over the Nocturne.
|
1242 9 8
|
we’ll never win/
the ongoing battle with dirt.
|
1242 0 0
|
White, hot pain shot runs from her through the wires, ending at the laptop, leaving a background buzz in her head.
|
1242 4 4
|
Our Sun bites down on the eager yet pouting lips of the softly puffy looking moon, but a jealous & runny cloud interferes with this story line just long enough for a little bit of fun: a young dancing tree washes her gold and…
|
1242 5 5
|
a soft wooden clatter, wind-battered reeds/bound to the banks of ditches rank,/ill-purposed waters slide into low swamps/whose waters into rivers seep and crawl.
|
1242 4 4
|
an almost perfectly symmetrical/
Cheshire grin of a moon tonight/
above the iced roof of the house
|
1242 0 0
|
A decade, at minimum, was how long their notes had transpired.Still, they all knew how it would end.
|
1242 6 3
|
I had this dream. We were living together, and we were in bed asleep when strange, enormous cats began crowding around our windows and meowing. They made awful scratching and scraping noises at the windows, trying to come in. But I couldn’t wake you up.
|
1242 4 1
|
Some corners of the world seem to be consigned to an eternal hell of never-ending strife. The Middle East; Northern Ireland; the faculty lounge at Oxford University.
|
1242 6 6
|
Two girls, twelve years old, run down San Pedro Avenue past the market, the middle school, seven driveways, their small chests heaving. The smooth soles of their Mary Janes keep slipping on the gravel driveways. Two men in a rust-orange van bear…
|
1242 3 3
|
. . . we agree that formal standards for identifying literary merit exist and are capable of being discerned, not merely of being ascribed. —but is this itself true?
|
1242 0 0
|
Ciel’s eyes trembled at how this all could have happened. With tears falling down her cheeks, all senses of hope disappeared.
|
1242 0 0
|
Reverend Peter Roman could stand it no more. He stopped his speech. He felt a fire burning through him, a hatred for humanity and all the weaknesses of beings not perfect before God. He stood a long while, staring at the congregation. Then, he slowly spok
|