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CHAPTER ONE About nine-thirty P.M. on Friday night, Mary Fowler pushed her grocery cart through the double sliding glass doors. It was three weeks before Christmas. The sun had set and the temperature had begun to cool rapidly in…
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When New Guinea's president was a student at UCLA he received an A- in organic chemistry after watching a Joan Rivers Informercial. Each year he tries to re-create the magic of that moment.
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Finding a soft pink blanket I prepared a place by the dirty window where he watched his world from a corner of his life.
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I have constructed this emotion with tinfoil and stilts. I wear the mask of a typewriter. I have roots in Minnesota. I have a glass hat and a junkyard monstrosity pregnant with parables.
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He will spread peace like wet blood on a sheet.
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Tread acres and acres of aches
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Obituaries aren’t as much fun
as they used to be.
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Danny is one of life's armchair philosophers, and in a moment of complete absurdity asks himself if he has ever been in love. From that moment on he embarks on a quest to find out. Follow Danny as he searches for the 'Pink Blancmange', gets propositioned
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Their laughter is of a tiny world that knows nothing of taxes or lost loves, or news reports of flag-draped coffins filled with limbs.
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In the neon light and barroom shadows,
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The harsh lights of the 7th Ave. Local revealed dark circles that had remained hidden during Vivian’s performance.
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And her life runs like clockwork. And the kids wouldn’t get to school without her, and the paychecks wouldn’t arrive and the taxes wouldn’t get paid. And she listens to religion and country and God telling her how to run her life, what to do and when. B
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We woke up and we were whirlpools of spilt turquoise oil / with wings for flying
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skin is soft and too easily sliced away
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And so, many ideas and stories and wonders crash onto the shores of my conscience...
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She found herself suddenly awake at five. She laid there in their bed while downstairs the coffee maker waited for her to press its button so it might gurgle and hiss, filling the pot with wakefulness. The dishwasher waited too, waited for her to throw its latch…
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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
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There it was
One abandoned high heel shoe on the sidewalk
Could have been
Some kind of robbery
Though
Maybe it was just
The beginning of the
Walk of shame
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my time there was not one afternoon not / one river not one tunnel not one falling
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What do you do
when a Shirelle asks you
if you’re in the mood to dance?
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when I take the time/now to remember/
you have become/a thousand page/memory book
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I wanted those jelly rolls so bad I could scream
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Anyway, without Mr. Little, my life would have been much more difficult after my father was arrested. It was difficult enough as it was. Mr. Little was my personal hero at a time in my life when I had very few people that I could look up to. The funny
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Suddenly you've got something to do on Sundays -
Wake up early and dress your best.
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Lupe drove. She didn't know where she was going, but still she drove. The Mustang whined because she did not shift gears. The street was wet from a night rain and if…
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I hear you calling me, as if through water spilled within a glass--
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The rhythm of my breathing
is a litany of regret.
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The way I figure it, mom wasn't worth a shit. I'd cry when she hit me but she'd just keep pounding. When I was seven, she burned a hole in my back. It happened one day at the fair. We were walking around. She didn't have any money so all we could do was walk. I had…
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