834 5 5
|
Already past the harbinger of yellow crocus
|
83400
|
The city was spread before me in a pattern of dancing lights, alternately hidden and revealed by the blowing snow. At this distance, it was almost beautiful. Of course, the beauty was an illusion, obvious only at a distance. If I stood here until dawn, I’
|
834159
|
Dread and drudgery sour each day
|
83454
|
once he had planted Lucille things changed./his emptiness rivalled the hollow grave/dug for her . . .
|
83432
|
Let's put a cork in this drain.
|
83400
|
It's late it's early love youfuck me the difference isin the garage boxes sitbehind me in the trunklike passengers beside melike pedestrians in frontof me I choose our directionwhat stays what comes whatis what and how did I end upin the garage in the first placein the…
|
83400
|
that lightheaded feeling you have right now is a good thing
|
83493
|
How many extinctions can we claim?/
Is someone keeping score?/
Somebody needs to keep the score
|
83400
|
This is no age for love; this is a time for discovery. So no time for me to sit around my candle is slowly burning, while wind combs my hair. If this is what loves comes to then I predict in the eventuality of me being an old woman by the sea living with her friend, the…
|
83443
|
|
83321
|
As the patter of our passing feet fades.
|
83300
|
The Party and the Body The party at my mother's ended Saturday night deep into Sunday's morning. I tried to remember the exact circumstances of the end but although they wouldn't come it didn't worry me. I knew I would remember at a certain point. It…
|
83330
|
- Of or relating to dreams
|
83365
|
If you want to be a writer, just write stuff.
|
83300
|
The house stood quietly in its surrounds. Unnerved by the beauty that enveloped it. Green forest trees loomed round the house protecting it from the outside world and in front of it lay a sweeping lake that disappeared into the trees on…
|
83321
|
The body does what a body must
|
83301
|
There was once a girl. Her name was April. Her family lived at the edge of a village. When she looked out her second floor window she could see the forest stretch for days. At nights after supper she would lean over her bed; watch the stars in the distance and wish many…
|
83322
|
They’ve got the tourists
On the top deck of the bus
Wrapped up in large yellow
Plastic garbage bags
Riding through the City in the rain
The yellow bags flapping in the wind
Yelling in the numerous languages
At the top of the world
The to
|
83321
|
I'll tell you what, Rick,
ten-thousand bucks?
[But] let Detroit go
bankrupt. I'm running
for office for Pete's sake,
|
83300
|
Have you ever Felt As if you were Alone In the world?
|
83330
|
On my second trip home from the University of Illinois down state in Urbana, it was during our break between semesters, I remember it was a particularly freezing cold and miserable January (1963.) I had a date with Lynda.
|
83310
|
Michael shifted impatiently as his mom steadied the gyrocycle above the parking space. A rather blank, empty smile came over her face, and Michael understood. The Proctors were everywhere and where they weren’t, there was always a Neighbor who would be h
|
83300
|
Azure lifted her head up – her heart racing – and she closed her eyes focusing her mind.
|
83373
|
Ginny, the mother, was a lark in every respect of the word. Born and raised in central California farm country, to a family of lower middle class means, educated in public schools in whose bathroom stalls she was deflowered as unceremoniously as a pig ta
|
83363
|
Spring break that year, (1963) I spent nearly every minute with Lynda. Her taste for sex was unquenchable once we’d gotten started. We did it in every position possible. The sitting position in the front seat of the car, which my brother Herb had to expla
|
832127
|
If you ask me I'm thinking I'm just blowing off some steam, some hot air that doesn't add up to the old cliche of a hill of beans. A hill of fucking beans.
|
83290
|
...it didn’t take much to just toss it aside and muster up some fresh bravado.
|
83240
|
Why is this woman smiling?
Because she’s the Real Mona Lisa,
that’s why
|
83221
|
There was a bottleneck ahead. We slowed down single-file, me behind, to wait our turn to pass the doorway of a vacant storefront church. In it, a lone black man sat atop an empty plastic milk crate. Nobody looked at him; they were all slowing down and cro
|
83251
|
The irony is that Smart's work of self-abnegation has surpassed that of her erotic master; George Barker is largely forgotten now, while the reputation of Smart's one work of genius seems secure.
|
