1213 2 1
|
The rhythm of my breathing
is a litany of regret.
|
121321
|
|
121360
|
After too much
I had forgotten how to fly.
There was a small owl with me
on the old dirt road by the wind.
It was a very dark gray,
like an ash.
Its beak moved, it opened and shut,
opened and closed,
but I had also forgotten the language
|
121301
|
On a cold, dark night near to All Hallows' Eve in October of 1930, I was summoned by Constable John Wakefield to the house of Vernalier Driscoll. The constable was wild-eyed and very nervous, his hair appeared to be standing on end.
|
121322
|
his eyes see blood as circumstance.
|
121310
|
skin is soft and too easily sliced away
|
121341
|
And so, many ideas and stories and wonders crash onto the shores of my conscience...
|
121253
|
accidental ground/
for index-fingered figures
|
121275
|
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
|
121230
|
What was heinous about it was how easy I assumed it would be. That was truly heinous, and it was a mistake in the end to think of it that way. But I’ve learned from what’s heinous. I’ve bought a plastic cylinder filled with nylon zip ties. They’re great f
|
1212115
|
In which era was it not a scary world?/
Last century, the perils were both red and yellow/
after Jerry was undone. Now, they’re brown/
and cross, without respect, the Rio Grande
|
121243
|
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…
|
121200
|
Coupling—why did I say that? Who says that? I mean the clacking together of bones, the willful splitting of fine and tender skin.
|
121200
|
|
121221
|
My man’s got a habit that’s kinda strange.
I’ve got a feeling he’s never gonna change.
Whenever I take a trip,
when I git back, my underwear’s ripped.
|
121100
|
We watched through the plate glass window, like kids watching a mother guppy eat her young. A woman approached the sweaters but stopped suddently, as if she sensed the dark force Darth Vader projects in Star Wars movies.
|
121187
|
In its own defense
against what is too concrete
the mind allows a magical thought--
|
1211108
|
Once with the lights flickering....
|
121140
|
I've been a fan of hagiography—the lives of the saints—since first grade when Claude Dunham and I were asked to represent St. Stephen and St. Sebastian, two martyrs of the early church, in a tableau vivant of bored boys.
|
121110
|
She’s not settling. She can learn to like this.
|
121100
|
Heaven and hell. Hadley believed in neither. One way or another you’re a meal ticket for someone, best to be the one spending than the one being spent. The worms and insects are getting their meal ticket now, that’s for sure.
|
121122
|
"She was like a perimeter guard for an advanced race of beings who looked human but were somehow para-human entities focused only temporarily within this dimension."
|
121111
|
She looked over from the passenger seat at her husband and smiled. It had been twenty years. She hadn't expected him to remember. She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, placed her hand on his thigh.“We'll be home soon enough,” he said. He was not…
|
121176
|
Equality became the next goal, rendering gay redundant in describing marriage. Gaelic life is ringed with sharing and lent the word slogan.
|
121100
|
Would you take a job living in a computer? What if you had to?
|
121000
|
|
121010
|
Trees gaining maturity that waited in the sun, in the bursting mornings and long afternoons, became restless now in new night textures. Sometimes the wind that came before the storm seemed to be intelligent, and follow some unseen but labyrinthine pathway. But now it…
|
121053
|
Pick up any stick or stone and you'll find the path again. Pick out any lone star and it will shine just for you. The rascal wind simply enjoys messing about with your serious nature. Listen to its…
|
121063
|
“Professor Gosser,”continued Victor, “I once screwed three women in a row--I mean of course, time, not space—good one, huh? Well, each woman farted at the exact moment she climaxed. Would that qualify as coincidence? And did it have anything to do with th
|
121020
|
Time is a form of sandwich. Each component of the sandwich is nestled between night and day, which enclose it like slices of bread. There are minutes, hours, and seconds. Seconds are tiny, like sesame seeds. Minutes are a little larger. Think of them as p
|
