1009 3 0
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“Hello, I’m Marlene, and this is April,” says the older of two women. Both Marlene and April wear ankle length dresses. The name Hester Prynne flashes through my mind.
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100930
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...something is pulsing in the shovel against the window and its pompadour of snow.
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100952
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—Francesco, said Zambrano, rising from his desk and putting his arm around Frank's shoulder. You and me, we're business partners. Regular capital crime buddies.
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100900
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First of all, you should know an unstoppable fire made my panties roar for you. Maybe you will come to understand what effect you had on my life, my whole life, I mean. You should know the effect you had on people. Me, and Sharon too, both. And I’m sure
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100942
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His small hands grew unimaginable vitality as he pushed and heaved against the strength of the ocean and it's depths and it's ruthlessness.
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100974
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Life is meagre with me; I am unsatisfied and left always begging for __________.
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100832
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100855
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for Melissa together today. I like that feeling. I want to pound a piano into the ground just for you. To your warmest heartbeat I raise my glass. Thank you. It doesn't really matter if they think that's a velvety Elvis…
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100896
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100810
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Shit, I guess I'm gonna hafta
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100856
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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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100877
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The monkey did not live for long. He’d lost interest in the stuffed dog pretty much right away. The farther away the shuttle, the more garbled and fanciful the sign language the monkey had been taught became.
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100894
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Alas, the wind, the rain/
and plate tectonics take temples,/
fire and sediment papyrus and clay,
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100841
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Her heart is the color of fuck. Not the color she'd imagined; the soft pink of parting lips, the fading hand print on steamed—up windows, like Leo and Kate in that fancy car the night it sank. His car was a dented jeep…
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100844
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fade away
glorious, golden
delicious
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100800
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100722
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Pick, pick, pick. Scabrous flesh comes off. Goes into mouth. Picking like a drone. This is my leg. It tastes a little salty. Iron apparent. Partner sits across the room, on his laptop, begging. I can't stop widening the pit. Partner goes to kitchen, eats…
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1007148
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Sometimes we hurt ourselves, we scratch ourselves, we bleed — for a simple joy... All I wanted to do was to find the poplar again — the tree of my young arms, of my budding breasts. My fingers used to circle around its bold and vigorous waist, but in the…
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100720
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They were overweight, diabetic, and trapped in a cellphone dead zone.
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100700
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you are in Faulkner’s dream -a lost pilgrim in cheap shoes
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100700
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As the waves rapped in query I studied some words so sad Words she likely knew Words seemed so pale ‘That is not it, at all That is not what I meant at all' Is this what she thought? She leaves needle and thread Down here for dead A fondness for…
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100722
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The space they are in is years long.
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100620
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The longer this goes on the worse it gets.
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1006116
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The woman broke the law with that scream. I would say that there was pleasure in it, for her. I would also estimate that ten or fifteen men saw it, ten or fifteen men plus me.
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100600
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I was still on track to be your average American with a six inch dick and a pair of sneakers.
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100621
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I had a dream and in it a small deer came to the side of the road and licked the salt from my wounds. I was lying beside you in a ditch, after crawling out of a smashed car (maybe your pal Jackson Pollock was driving.) We were just kids, really, not muc
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1006138
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my stomach is empty, but it is my eyes that are hungry
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100640
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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.
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100642
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(From Postcards fom a Railway Station (final poem)) No lights shine out tonight high hung in heaven: And the constellations like a dead man fall. No sight of polar eyes, whose sons are seven, And I stand unthinking and beyond it all I own it all a…
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100500
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Being forced to spend blood money on libations isn't stoic.
It's shitty.
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