1287 3 0
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I guess you felt more comfortable holding your Moby Dick
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128752
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lift my love and be lifted
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128753
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In the neon light and barroom shadows,
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128722
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I keep the book when the lessons are done, go through the pages Momma skipped over...
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128700
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He'd always considered it his bus.
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128787
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a fat crow rapturously caws over its good fortune...
not a morsel left on the street,
not even a bloodstain
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128785
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Mom would dig through one of her music boxes to pick out Saturday morning's cleaning jams. Tattered, battered Payless shoeboxes with lids ripped to shit, filled to capacity with piles of cassettes; greatest hits albums, mostly, or Time Life compilations of mid-to-late…
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128711
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our cogs
winding
and whirring
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128720
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Speaking in tongues
untranslatable,
they move in experimental spacesuits,
uneasy in the other's gravity.
(To say nothing of the difficulty of dancing.)
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128711
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Performed October 21-22, Gallery 263, Cambridge, Mass. Kathy-Ann Hart, the Hostess; Ryan Wenke, Ubu; Tyler Catanella, Alfred Jarry; the author--technician.
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128720
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With some of these guys it was like propping a kid on a training-wheel bike, then steering the kid down the street til he figured out what to do next. Tricks would come into the bar. Roanne had a smile for all but the dregs…
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128700
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We walk with our heads down, maybe 15 of us, moving under a sun that has grown to encompass everything. Everything is in hues of orange and red like a bloody eyeball on fire.
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128600
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"Did you see any action?" I ask, hoping for a story. He points to a scar ripping through the chevron on his left arm but says nothing.
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128640
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"At a bare minimum it deserves to be a major cult hit."
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128600
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Last week I heard that there is a new horror movie out about Abe Lincoln, with the plot of the film involving the tallest of presidents hunting down vampire bats with his axe while suspending habeas corpus, writing lame speeches about the freedom of man, restoring the…
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128621
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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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1286157
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...he had that same grin, better than a racy French picture.
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1286119
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128686
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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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128622
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The boy in the elevator with round glasses, /
who carried a newly-purchased broom, /
was tall and burdened with clothes
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128600
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Antique pens better allow an old soul to express what needs expressing.
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128611
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Next morning the thought crosses my mind of snapping Mom’s neck, making sure she’s dead, and then running down to the sea to drown myself.
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128653
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His eyes begin to glisten like hot green wax pooling around the
wick
of a
pretty little candle.
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128633
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Jo was tailored, Amy was frivolous with ribbons and bows, Meg was plain and sensible; and Beth, who was ill and had no costume changes, wore the same nightgown throughout the dress-up session.
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128630
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Goodbye comes in stages. At first you recognize that you will “miss” someone when they are gone. Then you have to accept the fact that they are leaving. And finally accept the fact that they are gone; and not particularly in that order. If only it
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128600
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It's not actually about blow jobs, sex, or coitus of any kind. You probably won't like it.
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128600
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In the tumbled-down now there's too much material, culled from pretty boys that don't notice me and tattooed ones that do, and I'm certain there's at least one dreamer soaking eyes into me who knows all the twisted lyrics invoking pretty little horses.
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128523
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The weather, mid-sixties now,
will take its toll on
this singular voice.
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128542
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He saw in her something fierce and wild
and gently led her to
his open palm...
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128530
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A kind of sucking darkness into
A kind of noir celebration of despair
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