1265 2 0
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We kidnap mothers of all sorts: old mothers, single mothers, young mothers (rarely), but we never do it for ransom. As a society we are adamantly opposed to the use of violence. Our mission is to remove mothers from environments they are not appreciated in, whether by their…
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1265 6 5
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to the back of your mind like a box of unpacked yet beloved books if you want, but that's no life I want to explore any further with you. We don't have as much time as we once thought, to believe in something other than empty bottles lost in the…
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1265 0 0
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you kissed me, once,/ kindergarten, recall--/ behind my ear./ called/ 'bee sting'
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1264 0 0
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Everybody wake up and hold to those dreams you had of greatness and prosperity. Bring forth the hopes you had as a child of progressing to that ultimate goal of self-sufficiency. You are prepared for what lies ahead, the future belongs to us. Our finest…
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1264 0 0
|
I sat in the kitchen with the phone in my hand. The phone had just stopped ringing. When it rang, its screen lit up with the face of the caller. It vibrated and played a tune called "Dusk 2 Dawn." Now the kitchen was silent.
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1264 0 0
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I wonder what strange and marvelous events would ensue if God decided to build another universe and went to Home Depot for supplies.
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1264 7 4
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I like burning lavender on glowing charcoal and dancing hard, thinking about long futures and deep moments. I want to cry and then scream and I don't feel like cleaning up. If I can keep a rhythm going long enough,I think I can build…
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1264 6 4
|
And no one died achieving aristeia/
in this battle. We have come/
at least some little distance.
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1264 1 1
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I should have worn shorts.
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1264 5 1
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Crowded into the heart are impressions past
These are not recognized in the available light
of the present. So they sit in the dappled shade
drinking, the clear glass partially filled with various
and red liquid. Hat tilted back. Black top hat
S
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1264 3 2
|
Chewy is an old dog. His face is mostly white.
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1264 2 1
|
and i start
screaming.
i check the damage in my rearview
mirror
but there's nothing.
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1264 6 6
|
Look. There's just you and me, that's all that's left. All the rest of them had already given up a long, long time ago. They dropped their precious, colorful dreams like rusted railroad lanterns, like abandoned pumpkins, and littered the Twitching…
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1263 5 2
|
The moon once rose on its own
Now it takes a series of
Ropes and pulleys to get it up
Because it’s so old
And you can hear these audible groans
Coming from its craters
As it’s forced to listen to forgotten lovers
Obsessing over old lov
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1263 7 6
|
Marcel Proust had never been to a big-box store before. He was dazzled by the sheer size and scope of the store and the seeming impassivity of the shoppers. So many products, so many shelves, such strangely intriguing examples of the human condition. The people seemed…
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1263 0 0
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Ben watched Monique disappear into the first-class cabin. It didn’t seem likely that he would see her again after this flight.
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1263 9 6
|
Through feeling her life story,
I understood mine, more,
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1263 2 1
|
I try to slot into order the sequence of events: the book deal that appeared and then winked away like a dying star, the white gloves and the brick through Waterstone's window; my novel lying in the shop front in a bed of glass.
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1263 2 1
|
A door in the hallway, with 30E in brass letters glinting dully on its polished surface, lying sideways on the floor like a beacon.
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1263 3 1
|
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1263 4 4
|
Yeah, okay, so
pigeons are the bums
of the bird world
So what are a flock
of crows working over
a wheat field while
the artist Vincent
is desperately trying to live
with his bleeding ear
or to sell at least
one painting during
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1263 0 0
|
Everything I write is gold, he mused. My words spill onto the page like ambrosia, nectar of the gods, filling an empty vessel with immortal life.
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1263 2 0
|
Loss and awakening are irrevocable. Love and grief are one.
|
1262 5 4
|
Those resting in clusters of bones, Cradled in ashes of what once were homes.
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1262 8 5
|
I'm not plagued with high levels. Must be all the raking I do. My pubes look as lush as my hair, so fire isn't even a concern. Maybe heat exhaustion is.This might be a poem,My oceans aren't small.
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1262 0 0
|
Tread acres and acres of aches
|
1262 4 2
|
A man walks up and faces
this new red brick wall
The bricks are all perfect
as you might expect in a dream
And the cement is tuck-pointed
without a dribble, anywhere
He looks at the wall
and puts his head through it
And when he pulls h
|
1262 0 0
|
What would people say about me? He was immoderately adrift. Maybe pathologically narcissistic. A shame he dumped Gina, the best he ever did. In essence, a man-child.
|
1262 0 0
|
We huddle behind the bedroom door and hear the swish of dad's belt as he yanks it from the pant loops, our backsides clenched.
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1262 3 1
|
He had to
get over
the short bridge
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