1090 5 3
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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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109000
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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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109021
|
Floozy Walks Into a Bar
Toting a handbag the size of a small suitcase
Because you never know
Floozy Walks Into a Bar
Dragging her reputation behind her
And everyone looks behind her too
Floozy Walks Into a Bar
To test the temperature of
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109000
|
Dog winged the monkey's gerdonderplonk just past ceremony. Winkle-wizzened water garglers awoke wanderjanked while apple-gated confederates slept on. Rusty pipe smack-down cancelled water lily gumbo's two o'clock and Patsy sang Crazy for the millionth time.…
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109031
|
I killed it.
Didn't even relocate it back to its outdoor home, as I had work to do.
This is being human.
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109022
|
My chin is half-eaten. My chest is gone. There is a rhythm to how each flame licks me. Like how you used to in the mornings before work. Before the coffee. Before the toaster. Before a rose clenched between your teeth and dancing.
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108900
|
Dust and blood and disgust
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108951
|
The gecko instinctively knew that if he moved, he was dead.
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108940
|
Why is this woman smiling?
Because she’s the Real Mona Lisa,
that’s why
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108921
|
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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108900
|
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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108920
|
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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108976
|
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108910
|
I invented a game called Church & State
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108920
|
A thrill seeker before midnight - but closer to twilight ...
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108900
|
The canvas bag lay crumpled and moaning in the middle of the room as Mister and Miss Marital Bliss contemplated what to do to it next. Spots of deep crimson blossomed like spring flowers all over the white sack and a large pool had gathered underneath. Rivulets of blood…
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108900
|
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…
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108942
|
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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1088225
|
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1088146
|
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108812
|
Do you know if you were actually speaking to me there?
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108810
|
She has almost-black eyes and auburn hair and round brown nipples that are always taut – as though in anticipation. I don’t know what color auburn is. I just know that’s the word that comes to mind when I look at her hair.
She calls herself Mama Legb
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108852
|
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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108854
|
"Tell me what you remember."
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108821
|
The moon has a cloud pass before it. The strop has a razor pulled up-and-down, up-and-down, up and down against it.
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108822
|
But then there were car windows
bashed out on both sides
Glass on the ground
like Kristallnacht
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108830
|
this is one of those
"there are two kinds of people"
sort of things.
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108821
|
If the pen travels over a sheet of paper, it is not long before a metaphor appears. A fast, beautiful metaphor like friendship, or deformity. Think of the pen as a penis and the ink as semen. I just sit and laugh. Time impregnates an opportunity and a lon
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108841
|
in making your sad blown apart hearts rise up and squeeze out the kindness juices ever so sweetly anymore. Tried that. Didn't work out too well, not for me, wasn't a BIG time of waste, but did eat up some important wee…
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108841
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Creating a world in which no one believes . . . killing a world in which no one could believe.
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