1201 12 4
|
Strauss does all the stirring at the start./
The rest is all murk and meander
|
120166
|
There's no rain--there hasn't been rain in weeks--but the clouds are dark without the sun, and I can't see the stars.
|
120100
|
Air. But fire against the air. An interruption in the blue sky otherwise. Painted without a spread blemish or problem. Now there is a problem. I am roused from sleep. Sister says, Look. Look. Jacob wake up. What? A truck is on fire. What is? A…
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120110
|
Handsome are the houses,effigies in synthetic stucco: prosperity divinedbehind parted walls. Behold the ersatz simplicityof the residential subdivision, contrived construction inline and line and line. …
|
120110
|
Mr. Townsend is a normal guy. He's been on auto pilot a while. When he finally snaps out of it, he's surprised at what he finds.
|
120130
|
Roanne awoke on the livingroom couch with the usual willies dancing in stomp time inside her. She blinked, looked around. The room was a mess, with clothes strewn hither and yon on the floor and the chairs and TV. On the walls, rock stars,…
|
120100
|
Th heeet frum mye skin on ers wus mehsidge eenuff.
|
1201106
|
2008Not a bubble burstbut a trust ruptured.The guilty don't survivebut, rather, thrive. 2011The monied are superior.They game the system well.As we work harder, longer,their paper fortunes swell.2017Marie and Louie were monied once.The Romanovs as well.Fast as blades and…
|
120100
|
I wrinkled my face up
in the glare and warmth of the sun.
I baked easy in the hovering heat
and my spot-speckled skin ate
up the rays and swallowed deeply.
|
120100
|
Made sense then, should have written it down - But I fell back to sleep instead
|
120130
|
The falcon cannot hear the falconer. The rain comes down in sheets.
|
1201127
|
Extrapolate, interpolate/
to add imaginary flesh//
to fragmentary bones.
|
120190
|
|
120085
|
I do that now. And I shiver. My mom's eyes don't seem to have any expression. They look lifeless. Her eyes look...
dead.
Stop it, Alison, I tell myself. You're being stupid.
|
120010
|
Before they ever spoke, Linda and Meg had sat next to each other in the cramped lecture hall for three weeks, their thighs touching, while Dr. Laurens showed slides of ancient Japanese art. Meg's eyes never left the screen, but Linda glanced at her as often as she…
|
120000
|
Tread acres and acres of aches
|
120022
|
As being ebbs it deepens. The mind grows truant. We inhabit a permanent Saturday.
|
120010
|
It wasn't the sun sparkling
Or the dog of the neighbor
Barking.
|
120040
|
The coffee filter rustles like the Pages of your notebook, which Only tires you even more. Make your drink strong to Make up for the lack of resolve In your shoulders, and Your weak promises. The familiar sound of percolation And you reach the…
|
120000
|
He’d eaten every kind of pizza from the most sublime to the foulest.
|
120062
|
To a desert island I pick a book of crosswords for my one item. It is a desert island. What could be more practical? I awake in the middle of the night, an itch in my throat. I blow my nose. Weird gobbets of blood ring my Kleenex. It drizzles out now, wet here, gelatinous…
|
120000
|
The Time Traveler had been gone but a minute, when Filby, combing his fingers through his ginger hair, turned to the Psychologist and proclaimed, “That’s the last we shall see of him.”
|
120064
|
Unhappiness is a necessary boon
|
120000
|
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…
|
120011
|
Dreams were all she ever had, all that ever comforted her. Diana. But then there was Rachel. And Diana forgot about her dreams, because there was nothing but Rachel. At first it was nothing but innocent phone calls, plans to meet up for coffee…
|
120010
|
A stroll along the golf course rim reveals Polo-logoed litter. Could this be what they mean by white trash?
|
120000
|
. . . he's of mixed race. Along with European blood, he's got Mexican Indian and African blood. Here's the irony. He don't look nothing like a white European man but he thinks like one.
|
1200129
|
you shimmered me with attention
|
120077
|
I live in a small fishing village where small people fish and others gossip or invent bizarre methods by which to irritate each other. During our weekly power cuts I go outside and cross the street, sitting on the pharmacy steps to watch myself not be at home in the…
|
119900
|
Waves like lovers gather and crest, crash into
White uncertainty.
|
