We construct what we want, from what has failed in the past. We thought this worked. The picture was buzzing for me and I tried to hold on. I went blindly forward.

One fine afternoon a few months after her husband's death, Susan awoke in the porcelain tub of her gigantic, empty house with: two champagne bottles, one only half-empty; a Xanax bottle, completely empty; and a loaded gun, which was most startling

A Massachusetts nursing home that doesn’t believe in antipsychotic drugs uses a llama named Travis to calm patients.

The alcohol is on my mind, on my mind, on my mind

Her Facebook profile was bursting with persistent prenatal posturing. She adored the adoration. And now Mrs. Davison’s pregnancy was almost over. This was her big, overblown, look-at-me-everyone, mind boggling finish!

I can hear soft rain

Even among the thousands of black cats/ in the world, though, he would nonetheless/ be my favorite with those impurities of light brown tufts

From the earth it erupts Growing longer, stronger, as the sun rises and sets Days and nights pass, bringing the wind, the rain, the moon, the stars A place of shelter it becomes

I want to fly like a snail. Yes, snails fly in their minds, so does the brain of the ocean. Does a man want to drown in the ersatz of desire? You must understand me. You and I swam together. They call it escape velocity.

I heard you singing in the bedrooms with me. The down I was fond of, down of your cheek, your thighs light blonde in the light. Out of the dark, sweet bay, were you like a shining rock, shining white, undulating, a thing of heat. I remember you, yes!

god's seed is asleep in the carseat

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.

He will spread peace like wet blood on a sheet.

I could tell you right nowwhat I'm thinking aboutbut that would not be sacrificeenough. Takes all kinds, and youonly listen when it'ssomething you think is instantlyoverpowering. I swear, there's always something not quiteright with you. There's a silly left…

The main street has turned into the lowland of dust devils, with the red sun scorching, continuing to serve the living like a giant blood pentacle.It looks like a heathen ritual invoking an ugly looking God with wings or horns, but beneath the whirlwind of rising…