1226 6 6
|
I want that one, unnoticed taste.
|
122642
|
Late in the morning, standing in line, clutching a bag of Meow Mix, I listen to the woman waiting behind me. She's having a cell phone conversation about the Treasures of Ancient Egypt exhibit. It‘s in New Orleans, she says, and the kids liked the mummy. I slide…
|
122620
|
Poets die every day but are seldom in position to put the experience to literary merit.
|
122663
|
The Bearcat 101 was a police scanner popular with a certain type during in the 1970s. Daddy was that exact type. I found the Bearcat in his apartment after he passed. His illness was a common one, the process gradual, implacable. No red and blue…
|
122611
|
god's seed is asleep in the carseat
|
122600
|
Many men ran about, some retreating fully and others digging in along side of me. Some of them without a shirt or helmet, but all with blood shot eyes. My brothers and I dug in hard and set our sights on our enemies.
|
122600
|
All greatest things are tokens of themselves: They need no tongues to say why they are so, To say why suns surpass historic gulfs Or why the rain sheds more tears than the snow: Yet man must strive to paint what falls beneath The glance…
|
122644
|
Finding a soft pink blanket I prepared a place by the dirty window where he watched his world from a corner of his life.
|
122640
|
Bipolar. Schizophrenic. Alcoholic.
Addicted. Abused. A reader?
|
122675
|
One day, Dasha confessed to Igor that she had an incurable illness: Purple emptiness.
|
122500
|
Even raw as she looked coming out of the jail, the woman left echoes.
|
122511
|
Writers, in general, enjoy the solitude that their profession allows, or more precisely, requires. I consider myself a member of that generalized group, along with a more exclusive club of writers who also tolerate an occasional…
|
122500
|
We now bring to the stage ....
|
122500
|
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!
|
122500
|
The sound wasn’t coming from her dream, it was coming from inside the house. Somewhere outside her bedroom the noise was gaining power. Each pitch climbed higher with the urgency of a smoke alarm. With hands over ears and a hazy brain she got up from her
|
122500
|
Zal’s first day on the job they had 16 customers. They took turns crying, “Bring out your dead!”
|
122533
|
It's early spring and rains leave miniature ponds not deep but attractive to a Drake and Mallard pair moving into the neighborhood settling quacking down. Not sensing transience in their comfortable puddle they get on swimmingly bottom…
|
122542
|
Jersey's ex-girlfriend calls him on a Saturday in the fall and asks if he'll help her find her cat. She says it ran off on her while she was taking it for a walk in the park. He thinks for a second about asking her why she was taking a cat for a walk in the first…
|
122500
|
Hungover on the intangible ideas of a teenager in high school.
|
122595
|
Someone must bear witness//
at a comfortable remove.
|
122552
|
Red leaves
green trees
wind chimes tune
|
122522
|
When daybreak comes, it falls a pall pást mé, For it descends too soon for woken sight to see A shade of any gladness in its dew's first blisters: All my dreams of daylight are in darkling whispers Of…
|
122565
|
You don’t want to tango with me, she said.
|
122511
|
Maybe adulthood isn't the destination I always thought it was?
|
122500
|
“Because the day I fucked you I caught an infection and now I have it for life.”
|
122598
|
decline the proffered hand
|
122563
|
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.
|
122533
|
or.
Have you ever contemplated smashing someone's face to The Stooges' Fun House?
|
122531
|
I hope some of my students will go on to advanced studies in Charlie’s Angelsology, maybe write a master’s thesis like “Kate Jackson: Third Wheel or Brunette Glue That Held the Angels Together?”
|
122500
|
Mike Summer's moustache was perfect. Hard bristle and so symmetrical it looked cut to the angles of a military imperative. He was pretty proud of it, thought the team of beaters, who watched him as he sat on the boot ledge of his sage green Mercedes 123 T, combing…
|
