"Which way ought we to go from here," he asked. She smiled again, "that all depends on where we want to get to." He nodded but didn't laugh so she sighed and strolled around the room, tuning and looking and considering her options.

Henry recognized the shoes. “There’s a little vampire came in with those on, but I last saw her over by the juice bar.” He couldn’t be bothered with Arthur’s “sections.” The club wasn’t that big that it had to be defined by sections.

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.

A parody of John Ashbery I have been preconditioned likewise by the ligatures of the roof. It has bypassed even the lightning. When I started this essay I (poetics equalling dissemination, like a toilet plug) admired, and I in the book produced…

Lela, my grandmother.

All the baby monsters are being born on stage.

Andy writes porn.

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.

The boy stared out his window, noting the suns slow and eventual passing behind the distant mountains. He saw his face reflected in the window pane and turned away. His shadow loomed…

Who remains after the aching night has departed into dawn and left us to week-old sleep

—Michiko, are you allergic to cats?

Then he said something that really made sense, said he kept a blank check in his back pocket...

I wonder if it was my voice or the words I was almost but not quite saying, cautious words, the kind that wander deep inside one's mind ...

He thought of natural violence that had to do with the wind and the Atlantic Ocean. He thought of the Gulf Stream, that important title, that someone had shown him on a map and explained about in detail.

“You look so … distinguished. My!” she said.