1099 5 1
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It had all been for the children, hadn´t it?
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109910
|
The empty faces in the crowd all mumbled...
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1099127
|
“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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109921
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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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109900
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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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109900
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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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109920
|
Jazzy midnights
twisted like DNA
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109911
|
"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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109933
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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…
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109942
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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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109876
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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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109896
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109821
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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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109822
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But then there were car windows
bashed out on both sides
Glass on the ground
like Kristallnacht
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109844
|
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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109800
|
My backyard was first Grass tickling my bare feet Skipping along the bottoms of my toes. I broke my arm there; I always hurt myself Swinging. The fair was next, grownup kids Having adult fun Eating carnival food and drinking grownup things When no one was looking. …
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109865
|
Forget the salt erasure of Carthage,/
all the Meso-American artifacts/
smelted to float the Armada
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1097146
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109700
|
no, you said.
like how the moon strangles with the side we can't see.
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109721
|
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
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109730
|
this is one of those
"there are two kinds of people"
sort of things.
|
109720
|
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.
|
109710
|
Someone had scrawled her on the walls.
|
109732
|
About four in the afternoon
a pigeon began admiring itself
in the shiny panel of a car door
until another pigeon came along
and it quit acting foolish.
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1096225
|
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109600
|
Dust and blood and disgust
|
1096139
|
Our local low rent ice-based superhero said he’d had enough and would check back in early spring.
|
109612
|
Do you know if you were actually speaking to me there?
|
109652
|
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
|
109653
|
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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