1195 2 2
|
these fleeting
moments of insanity.
|
119501
|
It's soundless, but they're
saying please,
don't let it hurt, don't let us
be consumed by the air,
don't let it be madness.
My muscles tense
in bare rhythm.
|
1195168
|
I'm panicking trying to think of the next line in this poem
|
119500
|
"Excuse me, ma'am? You wanted the mayonnaise on the side, right?"No one ever called her ma'am again.
|
119500
|
Willa knows why Jimmy reached for the thirty ought six
Chambered a round
With three more clinking in his pants pocket
And took to the roof
|
119523
|
Don’t worry, she said
It’s not blonde down there
But she is wrong
It’s just as blonde down there
As anywhere
The light down along her arms
For instance
The down along her cheek
On the back of her neck
Her thighs
Apparently I am n
|
119573
|
To understand how and when things have gone wrong, it works best to proceed from the beginning and put them in order.
|
119520
|
Mitt looked at his one-time running mate and took a deep breath. He was beginning to think that throwing all of his money and belongings into the ocean and eloping to Key West with Paul Ryan was a bad idea. Paul had turned out to be more needy than a danc
|
119421
|
There it it again, that noise. That low hum that I know so well now, spinning, gaining momentum in my head, like a cyclist in a velodrome, until its steadiness and roundness becomes sharp, painful, cutting like glass.
|
119441
|
|
119411
|
We are diminished by our desire
for innocence, and we debase those who
possess it.
|
119400
|
Before I take on any client, I need to know why exactly you need the services of a professional wingman. It’s hard to admit to your failures, especially when it involves your penis.
|
119465
|
Not sure I remember what's important, but I remember you. That's the whole problem I think. You're a drain where all my words wind up going down. All of them get lost inside of you. Eventually. And I'm left with nothing to say. Because all my words are…
|
119432
|
Let's put a cork in this drain.
|
119430
|
|
119484
|
When the sailor heard the 2nd
World War had just ended
He grabbed the woman in the white dress
Bent her backwards in Times Square
And kissed her real good
And the photographer
Just happened to be there
At the right moment
But then
As
|
119433
|
Outside cool fresh morning tiny fingers
|
119300
|
Isaac Beauregard Lyons woke with a start as he heard the slamming of a pickup truck door then a curse from someone down on his front lawn. “Damn it Mike, be quiet!” someone shouted.
|
119334
|
Estonia wore a liver milagro charm on a thin piece of rawhide around her neck and slept with her teeth in a jar. She was dreaming as she often did of the four children she conceived in Mexico. They had been born in bright colors and dust. Her first child Nina…
|
119332
|
Something’s not right. Okie, the elder cat, seems–distrait. Taciturn. Phlegmatic. And those are just leftover vocab words from my son’s senior English class.
|
119331
|
Interstice 1 Carved apart for Zion, set against a void,The wrecking dell of yet the Second War,Does Operation Hellstorm fill the floorOf still the firestormed ballroom? We forsworeOur filiality in killing you, and EidBells the invasion's consummation: and besideThe…
|
119322
|
Keeper of the balance. Husband of the night.
|
119386
|
|
119345
|
Their relationship had proved volatile. The husband had gone missing. The wife had gone dead.
|
119321
|
Zoë was stunning in a designer gown so revealing and form-fitting that only static electricity could keep it on her body.
|
119333
|
A strange man tapped my door and held up the shoes for me to see. “It is the Dork Shoe,” he said. I looked past him at his dusty station wagon filled with boxes. “I have your size right here.” I observed the halo of his gray hair as he…
|
119332
|
|
119310
|
All I need is a place to getaway from the rush hour worldThe crazy crazy rush hour worldA place to hide from the rush hour worldMy nerves are shot from the rush hour worldIn need a place to dream from the rush hour worldMy nerves can't take voices of the rush hour worldCars…
|
119320
|
|
1193129
|
Where the Story LiesEverybody wants to knowwhere the story lies. Does itlie in childhood? Does it liein old age? Does it lie in anangry outburst or a stingingrebuke? Does it lie in a momentof compassion or in the recognitionof calloused selfishness? Bruisedlove or…
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