1180 4 2
|
And in the dark caves a new secret, hidden from flyby probes and the imagination of men. In these new caves, names for the loved ones, Bradbury, Clarke, Rover
|
118040
|
We all wish to partake in great events.
|
118010
|
There was a thing she liked to do in the pool—after running and sweating—and that was to exhale as much air as she could stand, then hold her nose and sink to the bottom and just look up at the surface of the water, the way the sun hit it, the way the liq
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117900
|
Her eyes creaked open in the misty morning sun seeping through my dusty window. From her facial expression, I could tell she thought I was watching her sleep, but really I had just woken up and coincidentally looked over at the exact moment she did. I decided against …
|
117943
|
I didn't know what to do, really, but I had to do something. After all there was no one left to be the real bona fide hero to this story, except for me, the guy who wasn't any kind of a hero at all. I mean I could hardly move an inch, rolled…
|
117940
|
"At a bare minimum it deserves to be a major cult hit."
|
117910
|
I wake up in the back of my car, sleeping amongst the junk and a steel trolley I had used to help someone move house. I feel for the door handle to let some of the cold, grey morning air in. I gingerly step out onto the pavement and my leg gives way as a cocktail…
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117921
|
It was that awkward time when one didn’t know if the night’s lover wanted to see you again.
|
117900
|
He met her at midnight just off the plane and they sized each other with silent growing awareness that no matter what might transpire in distant tomorrows, each served here now as passports to magic and lands far away. On the…
|
117980
|
The soul was in the eyes but (it) isn't
The animal is in the body and can't be hidden
One senses the density of the blood there
Occasionally the soul rises to the surface
Occasionally the animal comes into the eyes
They use people and throw them away
|
117911
|
He’d've been up there belting out the hymns then bickering with the vicar after.
|
117900
|
He'd always considered it his bus.
|
117900
|
"It all began with a painting," I said. "Mostly blue. Acrylic. Naturalistic in a modern sense. She was stylized but recognizable, and her breasts were exposed. Everyone could see her disordered skirt. The painter was a fan of Herrick.
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117931
|
And the urban sprawl doesn’t hesitate. All around me, I taste the aftermath of bricks, dust and dirt, freshly laid concrete slabs.
|
11791710
|
the moon tops the monolith
|
117921
|
The pawnbroker sat behind bulletproof glass at the rear of the display area, a veritable potentate of hope and cash, exchanging expendable items for derisory cash.
|
117910
|
She was wearing a black tank top and jeans, standing in the shade. Why was she there again? The camera hanging around her wrist answered her question. Right, he had called. He had asked if she could take picture for him and his…
|
117821
|
He kept one scarf. It was the scarf that she would tie around his eyes to play with him, long, until he was in his teens. A silly game that made her happy and he squirmed with delight until he got too old. She did not want him to see her, only to know if
|
117821
|
Gringovitch sat on the big leather chair in Olivia’s suite. Before him on a coffee table were the nude sketches he’d made of her earlier that day.
|
117800
|
This was how he circumnavigated people, bartering like a viking setting prices on the edge of an ax-blade.
|
117875
|
Lucy entered the open door next; she had been inside the cat litter house before: Brother Fran didn’t bother to cover turds he’d laid. He spoke of the outdoors: lizards he’d separated from their heads, world of work.
|
117842
|
Seamus’ hands are shaking now
that once were still as stalking cats.
|
1178107
|
|
117800
|
when I said good morning I meant
|
117800
|
That was nearly two years and a thousand smiles ago.
|
117862
|
Why go outside where the gutters /
are fraudulent and clogged with popularity?
|
117822
|
I caught a fragment of a charged argument as I passed them. The young man said, “Well, I am talking about love.” And the young woman with equal volume checkmated with, “Well, I am talking about money.” Though their lives were none of my business, this exc
|
117754
|
|
117721
|
There’s an account of roasting inward, holding myself like a rock inflamed, my inward joy rotting my veins. How was I supposed to go on loving anything after you? Like a pigeon hated at home, awaiting your passionate kisses? Knowing how your classical k
|
117733
|
Well, hello
hunger: what a sweet surprise.
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