1245 1 0
|
The sun was a red beet and it waited low in the sky but I didn't know for what reason. You could look right at it and forget for an instant about tenement buildings and hydro lines, or the dirty city in general. I tied my shoes and got some water…
|
124531
|
There was nothing on the lake but a / faint sailboat and a shadowy gull.
|
124500
|
Son, could you please step out of the car?
|
124533
|
or.
Have you ever contemplated smashing someone's face to The Stooges' Fun House?
|
124500
|
I head out the door into Blustery cold winds Walking to my start mark I begin… Expecting in moments To hear the regular symphony Of anatomies brilliant Symmetry… Then I realize In my haste I have been thoughtless It will exact a price… …
|
124400
|
...I made the mistake, thinking the point of a maze was to go in one side and out the other.
|
124487
|
In its own defense
against what is too concrete
the mind allows a magical thought--
|
124400
|
She could estimate herself around 30, though this was debatable since she had stopped counting years ago. She looked like a person who would be very pretty if she wore make-up, but she didn’t and therefore wasn’t.
|
124433
|
He’s so stoned he’s in the zen zone,
Which is just beyond the end zone.
|
124421
|
I heard a story once that said we are all entitled to seven good years. No, wait, that is not exactly what it said. Rather, it was more plaintive and inquiring. The feeling that song gave was more one of asking the question: Wasn’t I supposed to get sev
|
124411
|
What it was for, didn’t matter. When Susan walked into Fred’s house every few weeks and start talking, he’d just nod and say, “Sure, I know how tough it is out there, baby.” Then they’d drink some wine and put on some music, and he’d give her a little mon
|
124400
|
A gurgle of sugar on bark-splotch or blips. A mess: blueprints, radar, or wrench. Lips swell neon blood. So much spit, the lunar tremors. Manipulated, blur flutter flicks. To lungs: choke on scraps of metal, lumber, nuclear. Stir the embers. She's a bone bath for…
|
124400
|
Many colored eyes move slow
between the mirror and my heart,
begging questions.
I offer no explanation.
None suffice to breed either my content or theirs.
|
124411
|
Grace looks at her cell phone. It had been about a week since her Aunt Margaret fell, slipping gracefully down the stairs and pulling her shoulder out as she grabbed the banister, her hand caught in the holiday streamers spiraling down the railing. Every
|
124451
|
It was the truth, you'd say. Then someone else would step in, someone who knew the situation. It wasn't long before the entire population of our sleepy little town became accustomed to your routine. It was even welcome in some circles. Those circles were made up…
|
124421
|
The other night / I dreamt I was an astronaut
|
124431
|
When the house was sold the new owners walked in on what they believed was a former life stopped cold. There on the table remained a half-filled teacup and a well-read magazine lying open from years gone by. A Royal Doulton dish set lay half packed on the
|
124422
|
|
124440
|
Bipolar. Schizophrenic. Alcoholic.
Addicted. Abused. A reader?
|
124333
|
Here comes the bus. It’s going to Tuscany and is full of pronouns: he, she, me, you, it, them, us, we, and you again.
|
124363
|
Where scenery is property and time is a straight edge; where the clouds are billowed and still; where one sees a tinfoil ocean and perspective to the east; where the static waves begin to move; where an immobile sky rustles and kneels. Our eyes looking still are the…
|
124332
|
I knew there was something wrong with the sunset when I woke up.
|
124363
|
Meeting the past an inevitable outcome (this inside a future fortune cookie). Shame pierces her like a sudden migraine.
|
124310
|
I had coffee with one of my characters today. It did not go well. I thought we were friends, but I guess I was wrong.
|
124311
|
I’m crouched behind my apartment window, practically going crazy.
|
124320
|
Poets die every day but are seldom in position to put the experience to literary merit.
|
124352
|
Like the Lady Miss Kier, I believe in the power of love. I believe.
|
124300
|
I strolled mindlessly along the concrete pavement, the cool breeze carrying the characteristic scent of the night. I stared at the path ahead, but not really looking. My legs continued their automated operations. I didn't know where I was going, but that was all right - I…
|
124300
|
they'd turned into humans overnight
|
124320
|
Miriam smiled as I entered through the old, creaky metal front door of her home. She sat still, face marked of deep wrinkles, tense with the pain only another cancer patient would understand. In that soft, sweet, melodic voice, she greeted me. '"Hello Ms. Monica, I've been…
|
