1146 14 15
|
the making by taking away
|
114610
|
And I'm usually soft-spoken.
|
114521
|
The body does what a body must
|
114521
|
She was a rich widow who lived down the street.
|
114510
|
First was the end of the month Sunday morning picnic. Well, Not first - there was more. Something Before then. But, You looked different with wind in your Hair and Never the same again. The mud on your skirt matched my thoughts. You'd fallen, I'm sure, and I…
|
114521
|
I had a dream, I remember, where I am in this painting, Luncheon on the Grass. My dress was thrown off and the picnic basket, filled with bread and fruit, is spilled out upon it, and I am sitting nude on my underclothing, with two gentlemen fully dresse
|
114422
|
(v 1: I picked up a robin yesterday. It was red and puffed and in the middle of the road in front of the car on the way to the grocery store. I put on the brakes and turned on the flashing red light to signal my stop. I picked the bird up and moved it to the side of the…
|
114421
|
|
114431
|
I display feelings of great witness and clasp the rails and try not to fall. I try to fit the social rhythms of the garden party. I do not succeed. I pack my bags and go.
|
114412
|
“Where did this come from?” Greenblatt snapped as he pulled a pamphlet from his coat pocket with the words “Jews for Jesus” on it.
|
114443
|
You know what's wrong with Hell these days? Do ya? It's too fucking corporate. Too commercial.
|
114400
|
Her light blue eyes fixed on a point to our left, past one of the church steeples poking out of the flat, charred ground – like a toothpick protecting a birthday cake from its cellophane ceiling; an untouched bethesda keeping the never-blue sky from crash
|
114430
|
|
11441312
|
The little Lady and I drove down to New Orleans to take in the Mardi Gras festivities we’d read so much about.
|
114401
|
The end of love is a rusty barbed-wire fence.
|
114400
|
This is between the two wars, so
it surprises you
when TV screens light up with this in the hotel breakfast room.
You are in Delhi, you were supposed to fly home
last night but
fog canceled everything.
|
114420
|
We were so easy, so willing to be drained, that to start making those puffed-up stories about us now, our courage, etc. would be purely misleading. Put a bottle, or glass of wine in our hand, and our panties flew off, and gladly we would have followed y
|
114400
|
“It’s not a bad preschool. You kinda get used to it. You ever been to one before?” Little Max asked the new boy, Sam. Sam shook his head no.
|
114311
|
As it was, she was on a mission to get back and either close the chapter or re- open it on her former lover. Something was curiously drawing her to him. She was frank with the man on the plane. He understood. When they deplaned on the tarmack in a snowsto
|
114360
|
It was not my intent to be nosy. I just wanted to be the best neighbor I could be. Having never had anyone close growing up, I wanted to get involved and be a part of my community, such as it was. My only neigbhor was Edna Phelps. She was one…
|
114313
|
This spring darkness is winding around my neckin the age of video, how many times I've seen her at the zoowith your eyes, as if seeing for the first timeher early morning breath, tripping your woman, your angelas she arrived on the beach when it was still too dark to see…
|
114341
|
I stood at a workbench for eight hours a day, scraping various shapes and bits of metal fresh from the machinist’s press, plotting my escape.
|
114320
|
The old man tied his black tie and put on a black beret. His bones hurt, but at ninety-two it was to be expected.
|
1143119
|
He fished a tissue from a hidden pocket and dabbed his forehead, then called the cops.
|
114311
|
What else could I be doing right now,Besides lying on the couch and staring at the ceiling,Looking for patterns in the colors and lines on the tiles?Looking for you,Immobilized,Succumbed to the siren song you sing.Lured to slavery,Yet you are free,Wild,Unable to be…
|
114332
|
I saw an older writer in a slouched-down Fedora,
gray beard and long scraggly gray ponytail,
who had empty chairs pulled up all around him,
at the Loser Café,
maybe for his imaginary friends,
or maybe those who were already gone.
|
114331
|
I inhale the smoke from a burning cigarette
held between two stained fingers that are not mine.
|
114355
|
(I would cite here “corpse plumbers”, but I fear being misconstrued.)
|
114310
|
Your insincere smile,
eyes drowning in kohl.
Sweat and sweet talcum,
and the maroon cashmere stole.
|
114332
|
http://www.boston.com/lifestyle/articles/2011/07/17/imagine_mimes_as_the_mbta_noise_police/
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