1378 2 3
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His smartphone rang. A picture came up of him kissing the blonde.
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137800
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A vanishing of something we never got to see. All we've been left with are impressions, imaginings
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137843
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137711
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Writers, in general, enjoy the solitude that their profession allows, or more precisely, requires. I consider myself a member of that generalized group, along with a more exclusive club of writers who also tolerate an occasional…
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137775
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and springs its ready-made claws into action and takes a soppy chance that things will probably go its feline way today. But you, my friend, must you always throw the testing switch to high voltage on me? Yeah I get that the history teachers…
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137700
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It is not rough like most grappa, but smooth like good whisky. It removes all edges, freezes the tongue and erases the memory.
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137754
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Eroica sprawled among/
the horns and violins
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137711
|
I hear the undying screams of the children outside.
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137786
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Looking at an image of a graffiti on a wall on our computer screen we ask ourselves: what is the image's main graffiti-like property? We might answer: its location. But that is a contextual and political interpretation. There's nothing in that answer which addresses the…
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137754
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and so I'm staying here where I am a little while (longer). Who knows where the time sleeps? I don't think I'll ever catch up with your heart again. That's the same lame novel approach I'm always stepping into to…
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137700
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A thing of beauty is a joy forever. Also a thing with bodacious knockers.
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1377139
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one season slips into another
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137700
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Loving himself. Loved by no one. Loving no one.
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137794
|
My dad / always had a fondness for Raleigh’s kind of loss
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137711
|
Précis Summer. Far from beautiful Prague, with its buzzing nightlife and pulsating, noisy crowds; away from the stamp, sway and spin, the odour of bodies, beer and cheap perfume; from the opulence and grandiose beauty, we sleep…
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137787
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The machines of her perception/
tuned themselves to frequencies//
that peeled her skin and fatty tissue
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137731
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When I bumped my head I almost fell to the ground Not so much stars As flashes of lights That looked like sparklers My mother chasing the dog She never catches it The cat sits on a nearby chair It's head moving as the dog does …
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137741
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The second time I watched him, I helped him carry her to the woods. [100 words].
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137700
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Lilly was anything but a white flower. Her skin had been blackened and burnt. Charred legs and arms stuck out like tiny tree limbs, the knuckles on her fingers barely covered by skin. The child’s face is frozen in the beginnings of a scream. She seems anc
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137711
|
#ShortStory #writers
are failed #poets...
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137621
|
In my dream I am the showy leaf, and you are the stem, and you are the strength. I am the leaf turning colors, my face flushed, the fine hair at my neck, and there is the deep carnal twisting around your stem that sends me floating to the ceiling over a
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137640
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We played and had joy. As the seasons changed in that peripheral world, we did not feel it. We only saw the snow a bit, only felt the wind a bit, we were not really in it. We still kept ourselves busy. There was something that I did begin to notice. I cou
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137610
|
|
137676
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I feel a hand on my leg, and look down to see the little girl touching the horse on my ankle.
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137600
|
[WE'LL LET *YOU* BE THE JUDGE!]
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137620
|
Ah, the nerve of hot-blooded youth! But the drinking age was only 18 in New Orleans, and we couldn’t resist the call of all that legalized drinking (even though I had fake I.D’s my roommate at Urbana had given me.)
You and I had already consecrated
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137621
|
Gotta ask myself what I’m doing here. What keeps me tied. Caged. What is it?
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137664
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It is not really about boxing.
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137661
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removing oneself sometimes occurs only on the page
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137683
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Our lives are lived backward in memory...
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