1248 2 1
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The sky was dressed in a wedding gown. The hooves of my horse clicked like consonants on the stone of the butte.
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124844
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Are all my words lonely, or nearly departed; decapitated; Visible only from the ankles down, nonchalant? I Get bored. All my words are not paying Strict attention to the television. I get dysfunctional. My words, coincidental though they…
|
124854
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Devour my horror, embrace it as yours
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124811
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124722
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Max understood this perfectly and could easily picture the slow-motion buckling of the spars and the accordion collapse of the fuselage as the propeller blades’ churned up the ground.
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124710
|
Cathy told the boy to sit in the seat behind her, and gave him her scarf for his face. He nodded and plucked the scarf gingerly from her hands, suspending it between the clean thumb and ring finger on his left hand.
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1247141
|
The author's note explains...
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12471512
|
Will it//
scare us shitless when we can finally/
draw ourselves a likeness of it?
|
124741
|
And so, many ideas and stories and wonders crash onto the shores of my conscience...
|
124776
|
The terms of a broken heart, I guess I nevergot to read them. But they must besomething awful, something numbing, something no sane personwould ever agree to. You're already on the vergeof becoming nothing I can remember without a photograph beingshoved in my face. Like a…
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124730
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I let the little fingers slip thinking they couldn't stand to hold on anymore. When they were done they said addled and I was left behind in the room with only my hand. I hurt myself trying to picture the pretty girls and they took out a piece above my eye. …
|
124754
|
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.
|
124710
|
I find it more fun to be a pirate
|
1246138
|
Humanity comes without a choice
|
124641
|
That was all it took. Thirty seconds.Half of a minute.30: He was standing with me on the corner of the street, 29: waiting for the crosswalk to say it was okay for us to make our way to the other side. 28: The red "do not walk" signal changed to the white "join us over…
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124630
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Kiln dried mummies, landscape of once were alpacas. / Now all the wool is farmed in Alva
|
124675
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I don't think I minded so much watching the trucks hit him, one breaking his spine with a decisive snap, and the other finishing the job by splitting his skull. I don't think I minded watching as much as I did watching those two boys poking around at his
|
124621
|
The rhythm of my breathing
is a litany of regret.
|
124633
|
I thought
we ended things a long time ago
|
124600
|
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124610
|
Two lovers — their genders / faces / social identities / etc. up to the viewer’s imagination (though I caution you, dear reader, not to imagine yourself in this role due to the psychic intensity of the following passages) — writhe against each other
|
124643
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While the shadows of lives that once were still hid away, others who survived tried to stand on their own two feet and walk the distance again and tell what happened and what it was all like.
|
124632
|
|
124642
|
He came up from under the water and looked at us. I asked, Whatcha doin' here? Then he said he was going for a swim because the water was warm. Mickey and I looked at each other. He is going for a swim because the water is warm, I told Mickey. Then his…
|
124585
|
“Don’t ever call me that name, formal or informal, okay? Forget you heard it.”
|
1245128
|
fog settles over the mountain laying a ghostly blue shroud
|
124510
|
The damaged lining of this awkward appellation is just bewitching, begging of the light test prod — OW! and then stern mastery: Introducing the cruelly hooked thumb with ragged nail, plunging up, ripping into and down…
|
124510
|
I had to go to
the lost and fondue.
|
124562
|
I smell ham and biscuits
I ain't eatin' Triscuits
No more
No more, no more
Gonna get back on my Harley
With my mutt named Bisquick Charlie
I just ain't eatin’ Triscuits
No more, no more
And I heard you know the score
Yeah, I know you
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124500
|
Marie Poupon-Kennedy wasn’t strangled by one set of hands; there were thirty sets around that long, pale neck.
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