the burning thrusts/ of yellow in defiance of the frost

As Mrs. Saito put on the helmet, the copter got off the ground. She focused her Mana and placed her hand on the window, bracing for the birds arrival.

It's not actually about blow jobs, sex, or coitus of any kind. You probably won't like it.

I scrambled back a bit and found my feet after untangling them from my trekking poles. Really should have dropped those when this all started. The bear lunged at me with his teeth and I just barely dodged to the left to avoid getting something bitten of

Last night I decided to go through my bag of wind and sort things out. I'm a hoarder, and wind is no exception. I collect winds. I found two siroccos, five simooms, three foehns, eight Chinooks, ninety gales, thirty zephyrs, two nor'westers, a monsoon, a…

Sometimes I think there's an octopus in my stomach. In the mornings it stretches and droops its lazy head to one side — It suctions it's tentacles to the walls of my belly and pulls them together forcing me To gag, and vomit what we didn't digest of the…

...the completeness of pleasure tantamount to the end of all process...

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.

I call upon all cashiers in dungarees... I call upon the baristas in rags... I call upon those whose sinister principles tax the weakness of their conscience... I call upon all those deracinated by dreaming big...

The river was frigid. Branches, empty cans, and used condoms float past me.I lost my jacket when I became snagged on a tree branch. My shoes are gone. My skin is blue-grey, as are my lips and fingernails. I've been face-down in this river for two…

You are nothing but a generic white man with average looks and intelligence, trapped in an indie romantic comedy. You sit in your overstuffed coffeeshop chair, drinking an impossibly befoamed cappuccino, the sleeves of your flannel rolled up to your elbows, mellow synth…

A precious heart unfolding the joy within Carefree play marked footsteps skipping along the way Such wonders untold awaiting a time of promise Stilled in the night by a grasping hand Held down in silence fear feeds off this soul Marking its to

It's been almost two years since I bought it.

It was in the good and strange middle spring and the rain kept announcing itself on the doorsteps and the railings of the town. As it bounced off of infrastructure and the top of eighteen wheeled trucks, rather than die little deaths, the drops found their way into the…

I remember.