1251 4 0
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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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125121
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Every spring, outside on the back deck, my mother and I have the same talk about how time flies, and she always waves her hand in the air as if swatting at a fly, but there's never anything there. She thinks the lilies will live all summer spread like a rainbow,…
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125111
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There is a false dawn,
when night still holds sway, but tempered with promise; anticipation.
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125174
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All this broken glass in the road
Tells the longest story l have ever told
Of how you lost your life and I my love
And how you still go wandering above
I don't know how I can return
To the planet where we used to thrive
Along this broken
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1251157
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...he had that same grin, better than a racy French picture.
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125100
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This was how he circumnavigated people, bartering like a viking setting prices on the edge of an ax-blade.
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125163
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We call it the alley of the shadows, the low sunless concavity of earth between the stalks, the acrid scent of the ripened arrow-points.
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125111
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Jack Krackenthorpe, Director-General of MI-5, sat alone drinking tea in Lee Ho Fook, a third-rate Chinese restaurant in Soho a mile from his Curzon Street office.
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125133
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How long has this been going on? the admitting nurse asks.
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125121
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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.
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125143
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Your father's remembrance and memorial would be inappropriate for me to attend. never mind the truth the searing…
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125051
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no rule says an imaginary friend has to be a good one
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125030
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It began with the waffles, well first there were the potholders, but really the problem was the waffles. I don't even think she knew she was making waffles; much less that she had lost her potholders in the trash can the day before. But nonetheless the real issue here was…
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125021
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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.
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125010
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Soul? Who's got soul? That nothingness that holds us together, between the spaces, in and out of the cracks in our minds and bodies. The soul weighs something, you know. It's been proven. Some guy did a study where he weighed people before and after death, and they weighed…
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125000
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He woke up four hours later with the second worst headache of his life. He leaned against the car door, his face against the window, and pulled the handle to open the door, but it hit the wall. He pulled himself out of the car by the top of the door frame
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125000
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The Gringovitch family was gathered in the lobby of the hotel. The boys sat on the floor using their packs as back supports. Francesca Gringovitch sat on a chair with the remaining luggage in front of her.
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125021
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. . . I just didn’t think to call the mortician from the phone outside the grocer’s store, how gauche that would have sounded to any passers-by, a call to a mortuary from outside a grocer’s store!
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125052
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This year, instead of giving roses or candy for Valentine's Day, why not give something your spouse will never forget.
A brand new divorce!
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125010
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Me leaving is not the confirmation of all your fears. It is not. It's because of them.
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125094
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The woman took a small note card from her purse and wrote on it. She then stood, handed the card to the doctor, and said, “Call me.”
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124911
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Lover’s leap to a bank of smooth shale/
Where I sat drinking beer that past summer/watching a group of hard shell Baptists/line up to be saved in it’s muddy waters
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124942
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The cell was crowded, barely enough room to swing a cat.
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124900
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Do you know what it is to crave something? Of course you do. But this was different. This was beyond craving.
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1249138
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The creatures were thief-walking...
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124900
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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…
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124954
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The kind of poem poets write and read. I mean, hey I was feelin’ it HARD at 3:24 am, and this is what spilled out.
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124900
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the gambling priest stands in the morning fog/red moon hangs in the sky/the army of seven houses marches over the hill
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124941
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124920
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It is no coincidence that the bossa nova craze coincided with the years in which I achieved my greatest romantic success--first through sixth grades.
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