1180 4 1
|
This time is different. The dream doesn’t continue with endless walking.
|
118065
|
I texted a wickety-split, tax-declaring New York-based international escort, a moonlighting, all-pro Kit, whose day job on Wall Street yields no bonus.
|
118044
|
an almost perfectly symmetrical/
Cheshire grin of a moon tonight/
above the iced roof of the house
|
118000
|
Mr. Skunk looked disdainfully at the window. “When the fuck do we get out of this place?” It was mostly rhetorical as the Skunks were all stuffed and inanimate.
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118000
|
Joan's biospy showed the cancer had come back. Instead of preparing herself for chemo, she booked us plane tickets to the Galapagos. “Death can wait another ten days,” she said.
|
118011
|
There is an air of sulfur about you. I cannot tell if / it emanantes from you, or it is the stink of your clothes / from having been in hell for so long.
|
118000
|
Azure analyzed her surroundings. There were potted plants along the walls. It reminded her of the dormitories at Memorial Academy. Each room had a number.
|
1180117
|
--small chin, timid mouth, frail nose, weak narrow-set eyes--
|
118063
|
It was as if every wrong foisted upon his ancestors stirred up a war in him and he was charged with intending the canon at the living.
|
118031
|
It was New Year's Day. My cousin and I were having coffee. It was about ten at night. We were outside the establishment. She said: "Sometimes I think you're not happy. I see it in you."
|
118043
|
I come up and out of the hole onto a village street in the middle of a parade celebrating the arachnid god.
|
118077
|
Over dinner last evening she said things have to change because she can never be happy with our lives being so concentric and I knew she meant that while we share the common core of marriage, she felt she was a small circle and I was a larger one, enveloping her,…
|
117941
|
Whisper salutations to your irises
|
117922
|
Can you remember now? How we could each disappear completely, connected despite fault lines. . . .
|
117932
|
There was no hope for the writing desk. Even if it had not been for the splintered leg held together only by duct tape, there was no way Ron could have fit into the back of the station wagon with the rest of the luggage. He asked the Mexicans across the s
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117900
|
What can I offer you, White Moon?This full night lays black before your stoic assent—and Ibreathe my final breath, frantic—for you. I wait, damned,a bestial lover in the broken dark of the variety market, whisperinga word of forgiveness to an empty window. I…
|
117910
|
Sing your barrel-chest blues, / Hard young man.
|
117941
|
|
11792019
|
Threads of sadness in the hands, in the touch
|
117987
|
I'll always remember those warm, weekend twilights on the beach after the frolic of the waves seemed to flatten with the impending dusk, sending the surfers home and, after the bait was spent, sending the surfcasters away, I'd claim a square of sand as my stage,…
|
117943
|
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.
|
117960
|
and still every time I walked up there - so it can't be the cycling - I was nervous I would do it wrong
|
117951
|
For those of you who come quickly as darts in black atmosphere, a bittersweet half. I'd like to be forgiven, for these thoughts which racket my insides, a tennis ball of occupancy. This yielding of song: a sip: sorting my business through the shield. No way of bartering the…
|
117997
|
Is it my imagination, or is her chair afraid of her?
|
117941
|
I have to look closely to be sure But they are there Bold stickers on three sides of the truck's cab Porcine cartoons Cutely admonishing No fat chicks! I am enraged Who does this guy think he is? This contractor's helper who makes …
|
117943
|
Your father's remembrance and memorial would be inappropriate for me to attend. never mind the truth the searing…
|
117853
|
And there on the street
Were a bunch of frantic pigeons
Picking over some discarded
Chicken bones
I mean they were really
Going to town on them
You know, frantic
Like there was no tomorrow
And then I saw it
A real sign of progress
|
117820
|
He once owned a dog named Bark. As a kid, he was kicked out of the Boy Scouts of America. His childhood nickname was “Sleepy.” When he was little, and alone, he used to sing songs to God. When he joined Second City in 1973, the troupe was…
|
117800
|
|
117800
|
Something like: Answers to questions you might not yet have?
[Answers we will try hard not to provide]
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