1187 4 3
|
|
1186 1 1
|
Deep in Stationcity they began to drum.
|
1186 0 0
|
“Grow some fucking balls, Satan!”Did I just say that? To the prince of darkness?Yes. Yes, I did. Let me back up.*It was around 10:30 Saturday morning when the phone rang. I recognized the caller id.“Hi, Satan,” I said as I picked it…
|
1186 2 0
|
|
1186 1 2
|
Do you know if you were actually speaking to me there?
|
1186 0 0
|
I walked up to the bar and sat down on the empty stool.“You don't want to sit there,” said the bartender.“Oh? Why not?” I replied.“It's haunted.”I laughed, but then stopped when I saw he was not laughing with me.“You're…
|
1186 0 0
|
I’ll widen a wing out of myself, if you want. I’ll wash out the more volatile salts of man’s innate salt. I’ll awaken the milky sense the night sky’s made of, under Van Gogh’s heaven. Use the same salt wind sailing over all origin, the rim of the cup an
|
1186 2 0
|
They were overweight, diabetic, and trapped in a cellphone dead zone.
|
1186 6 6
|
the moment he started walking
my hands were given new tasks to do:
|
1186 2 1
|
“You’re just like me,” she said, as dawn was breaking. “You like sex.”
|
1186 2 0
|
A waiter at the café was saying
“I’m opening the curtain here behind your back
Is that okay?”
“Go ahead,” I told him. “It’s all right”
“Enemies are taken care of?”
“They already got everything,” I said
Suddenly both of us were laughi
|
1185 1 0
|
A man strolled by with perfect posture and a masterful comb-over. Bud gave me that 'get him' expression; sitting there with his own low side part. We razzed him about it all the time, but he still looked pretty-damn-good for seventy-five.
|
1185 11 8
|
|
1184 6 2
|
Look, “Wolfie,” (or “Pharaoh,” or whatever your name is now) a little too much information, don’t you think? I don’t need to hear all the details about you and Sharon. It’s my life, and I’ll cry if I want to – to alter the song just a
|
1184 1 1
|
She burns
her wrists with menthols; she says
it's too much effort to cut
them. Besides, it's
more fun.
|
1184 4 1
|
He puts the briefcase on the sand and removes a pistol.
|
1184 0 0
|
[I STILL CAN'T GET THE "CENTERING" FORMAT THINGEE — WHAT? "JUSTIFY CENTER"? THAT'S WHAT IT'S CALLED? YEAH — THAT ONE! TO WORK! WHAT THE—]
|
1184 5 4
|
Each brief life is lived in dedication//
to the honeyed buzz of the colony,
|
1184 0 0
|
I'm feeling almost better than you know A little bit better than the day before Waking up to a deafening scream Please, please don't hurt me no more Why do I feel like a lost dog? Staring outside the window pane How come I become dark? When the clouds begin to rain…
|
1184 4 2
|
You don't see the bruises ... you can't foresee the pain. It's intense, so deep and yet so volatile, in vain. He slapped my head once more while he uttered for the millionth time the same old words again: "You're a loser and you'll never win. I hate for you to be my…
|
1184 2 1
|
By the time he says “I am tired of the smell of pig shit and death” you’ve already lost interest
|
1184 1 0
|
|
1183 2 1
|
I know I was hungry. I was hungry for what you had to offer, your fast cars, your dad’s ski boat, your beautiful mouth and its pretty words, your Bohemian eyes and yes, for the joy you could give me between the legs.
But I was unprepared for the lif
|
1183 4 3
|
And what is it I’m supposed to do
With all this unsolicited advice?
|
1183 1 1
|
My friend and I were talking while having burritos (some days, it is as if all we ever eat are burritos, existentially speaking) and I was looking at the way he inserted that shaft of meat in his mouth and thought him prodigious for his technique
|
1183 3 2
|
He’s got horns and a tail
I found him on sale
He’s got snake in his DNA
Evil in his eye
And plenty of chicken pot, chicken pot
Chicken pot pie
But he sure can play piano
With those giant lobster hands
In his ratty raccoon coat
And his
|
1183 10 1
|
feeding the lions, tigers
|
1183 2 2
|
|
1183 1 0
|
Someone had scrawled her on the walls.
|
1183 4 4
|
The world is beginning to lose what little hair it has left. Follicles litter the streets and scrape along merrily in the wind like one last turn of the world defying knob of being and knowing. But the thing I want to say here is how beautiful…
|