1102 2 0
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Jess threw her books on the bed then grabbed a notebook from a shelf and slammed it onto a writing table. It made a hard pop gunshot sound. Flinging open the book, a page tore. Her diaries were named Annabelle. It was with a blue felt tip pen that she wrote: …
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110242
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Below them, the clag shears open in irregular patches, the lights of Seattle resolving themselves through the thinning overcast then vanishing again by turns.
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110152
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She was having a laugh, but I didn't know what about. We were sitting in a big house that was on the top of a large incline. All these books were scattered around, and the walls and the kitchen, the doors and the quarter round and every other thing, was old and…
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110176
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Marcel Proust had never been to a big-box store before. He was dazzled by the sheer size and scope of the store and the seeming impassivity of the shoppers. So many products, so many shelves, such strangely intriguing examples of the human condition. The people seemed…
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110196
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110121
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I dreamt my legs were stirring the air up behind your back, as you lay between my thighs. Stirring the air repetitively, like a sea anemone stirring the water to feed the soul, the hunger between the legs and arms, for new life.
Stirring up the salt
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110111
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She burns
her wrists with menthols; she says
it's too much effort to cut
them. Besides, it's
more fun.
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110175
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There could be a Reagan circle/
with a Maggie Thatcher suite.
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110110
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The empty faces in the crowd all mumbled...
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1101127
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“She's the year of the horse,” Metri said as he peeled his dirty head from the bed, his hair was as matted as a racoon tale. It was as wild as a wild animal and smelled like body odor with a hint of blood. He slid his scabbed hands up to his chest as if to…
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110110
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my tiny white world, the cube in the closet in the back above the shelving in a secret compartment cut into the wall
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110100
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When I step barefoot on sand you're here again warm and soft and you let me sink in while you hold me up and make my legs like running drunk in a dream; away from all the nice things everyone said about you. And it seems like you're right here…
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110132
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The drug that brought me here is orange and opposable as a thumb. Therefore, send me a dollar and I will swim in your beautiful gaze like a new experience. We can be caviar together and create metaphors for the stars.
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110051
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It had all been for the children, hadn´t it?
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110030
|
this is one of those
"there are two kinds of people"
sort of things.
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110000
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Aleister Crowley walks in and all of a sudden the bar's filled with angels and demons and pagan things. Wood nymphs and stuff like that. Wittgenstein, to his credit, keeps cool. He just stands over there next to the dart machine, pointing at things and naming them. Like…
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110065
|
Forget the salt erasure of Carthage,/
all the Meso-American artifacts/
smelted to float the Armada
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109941
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“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.”
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109956
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It all felt so tentative, he thought. The whole set up. Running water. Electricity. A vast network of instant communication. Food in all the stores. It was the latter that gave him the most concern. He'd never really been hungry. Even in his poorest days, in his early…
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109900
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On the parking lot of the bar, two in the afternoonYou notice the battered car, dented up body of a Ford escort,No hubcaps, plastic in two of windows,It yells a story to youA familiar storyHead into the bar2 O' clock in the afternoonIt's a nice, sunny, warm Saturday…
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109921
|
What the fuck is that smell? Puke? Pine-Sol? Oh shit!Back seat of a cop car.Again?What is it this time?“Excuse me, officer? Where the fuck are my clothes?”
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109944
|
Wheels are spinning
On the country roads tonight
I’m driving all alone
No one else in sight
And the wind’s in my hair
And I don’t care
Yeah, the wind’s in my hair
And I don’t care
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109953
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It was a summer full of rage and discontent. The air had a new taste to it, reminiscent of the tang of battery acid.
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109920
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There is an obstacle, as if truth has a place of its own. This is the phantom where my roommate turns off her headlights Upstate, while we’re singing: No more, No more, stay as you are.
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109920
|
Jazzy midnights
twisted like DNA
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109910
|
Someone had scrawled her on the walls.
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109910
|
I invented a game called Church & State
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109911
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"We improvised to show our Spanish compadres that we meant them no disrespect, and the running of the cats was born."
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1098139
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Our local low rent ice-based superhero said he’d had enough and would check back in early spring.
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109852
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I’m not in the habit of just hanging out on the corner handing out “free stuff,” you know. I figured it was going to cost you. But I was wrong. It cost me instead.
You can only float near the ceiling when you’ve become an emptied vessel. No hope or
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