1142 1 1
|
City cars packed with eyes
|
114211
|
Deep in Stationcity they began to drum.
|
114220
|
Then there was Marsha, the blonde bombshell, at Irvine, who slept over one night only. As in the original one night stand, your standard L.A. blonde beach-girl bombshell ex-cheerleader tear your heart out and spit it as far as she could. Wrench your bal
|
114240
|
For those in know know know there was hint of a wilderness Cadillac...
|
114200
|
Randall had created Raoul to enjoy the freedom of being another person, but this became his second life crisis.
|
114241
|
“So–you can get a stimulus check even if you’re dead?” I asked.
“hell man–in chicago you can vote if you’re dead. i’ve tried to stay active politically.”
|
114200
|
It was the same table they met and fell in love.
|
114220
|
The president snapped awake at three AM. He realized he was a serial killer. Highly trained and equipped killers on his orders were summarily murdering thousands of raggedly dressed people in the name of Democracy.
|
114220
|
I will watch your teeth measure the highway all the way home.
|
114233
|
Father, trouble me memory;laconic, idle, some glint on the dark. Recall us to me: what did we have, or what did we lose? Like some late affection, open me again, laugh it out of us. It is not loss I'm looking toput back together, papered over…
|
114221
|
martyred young women lie in hospital beds
|
114121
|
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
|
114150
|
They were all celebrating something, but she couldn’t see what it was.
|
114196
|
|
114151
|
Sand atop a trickling potentially,where roundabout rides hideunbegun business, the trickling of sand at any moment.
|
1141105
|
I am a small cottage up on the hill. Every morning, I open my windows and my front door. First enters dawn which turns the walls blue, followed by the sun laying straws of wheat on my table. Inside my cottage the day lights up the dark corners while the lamps go quietly…
|
114111
|
We are / packed in a speck of dust / adrift across the universe, / revolving an ember.
|
114100
|
“That's Governor Gauda to you, punk!” This is the line from my speech “Killing Dennis Gauda.” The speech lost the Tall Tales competition at the division level, but I was unfortunate to have a chance to do this speech for Dennis Gauda …
|
114100
|
It seems like that is all I really knowThe narrow confines of my existenceThe sun rises and falls somewhere,And all living things, move, work struggle and fightCarrying a bucket of water, while the sunBangs the day's rhythm on my armsThere's a war going on, all the…
|
114100
|
These were strange realizations, and each built upon the one before until I was completely mystified and unsettled in my life.
|
114121
|
“Are you comparing the communists with Hitler?”
“Are you telling me there is no comparison?"
|
114100
|
no one told him there was a place where heroes died, but he should have known it was in love
|
114140
|
The boy had decided he needed to sell his music equipment—the p.a. system, his amp, his compact organ. His band had broken up and wasn’t going to get back together. He was leaving town at the end of the summer, to where exactly he didn’t know yet.
|
114052
|
We head home, skirting along the coast,
humble before catapulting waves;
the lighthouse near invisible
if not for a single band of red.
|
11401816
|
My job was take the falls, act the dope, finish at the wrong end of the slap stick for the blow off. I was Auguste, the fool; I drove the clown car.
|
114000
|
This is what you have to do to keep the unruly parts of your brain from open revolt.
|
114000
|
We entertained each other and stuck our fingers in each others’ cakes and pies and pulled them out licking them while looking at each other. I was light with youth in a white summer dress, swinging my shoe as it dangled off the tip of my toes, rubbing m
|
114044
|
Friends of the bride
feeling out of place
like a church key
at a wedding
|
114044
|
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…
|
114031
|
I killed it.
Didn't even relocate it back to its outdoor home, as I had work to do.
This is being human.
|
