1159 3 2
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In the sad suburban subdivision
with its cul-de-sacs and broken curbs
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115900
|
(...) I know my eyes are shut and I’m on the kitchen floor but I see her and I’m not confused. (...)
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115933
|
“Hey! You can’t be
whistling on Greyhound,”
the bus driver said,
looking up
in the rearview mirror.
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115900
|
Silent defenders
of penumbra one
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115921
|
They called him Hank. We piled in a car and drove up from Irvine to his little bungalow apartment on DeLongpre near Hollywood Blvd. for a collating party for this Mag he started with Neely called “Laugh Literary and Man the Humping Guns.” No shit, that wa
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115974
|
Women can often be found
Sizing up each others’ tits
|
115922
|
Cleopatra fills her cart with food and cosmetics until it is overflowing. She proceeds out of the store. The clerks stop running products over their scanners and gaze in incredulity, and confusion.
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115920
|
Through by the sands and the rocks we were going and the lake liquid had tumbled the stones by the thousands so that while the water was still we could see agates and yellow jaspers and other or even the odd and misspent piece of rounded glass green or white safe…
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115921
|
She was reading The Thorn Birds. Always on her side, in a pink cotton housecoat. The Buddha rested on his side. And drank milk. We drank plenty of milk, but, being Catholic, didn't know anything about Buddha. I would sit there. Piles of books were around. I…
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115931
|
Then I learned she was revealing all our sexcapades to this young priest.
Forgive me, father, I have sinned. We had sex outdoors against a tree in Wisconsin and the tree was blending with our act and becoming one with my back rubbing up against the bark
|
115900
|
For every Ruben Studdard, there are ten Mick Jaggers and, considered merely in terms of avoirdupois, the two sides of that scale would probably balance.
|
115852
|
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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11582510
|
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115840
|
Julie had a thousand freckles the
color of mud.
|
115800
|
Have you ever Felt As if you were Alone In the world?
|
115700
|
This girl who looks about ten years old and her Pomeranian puppy are staring at my left arm and my right hand keeps filling out the form and I know I shouldn't but I say what she's been begging me to for the last half hour: It wasn't Wilbur. It was a woman. A girl,…
|
115744
|
A short sonnet for my sweetheart's birthday.
|
115700
|
Dave Sharpe silently pulled his desk chair out of its nook that was conveniently placed underneath his desk. He took a deep breath as he slowly took his place in the seat and nudged it into a perfect…
|
115722
|
We all have our place
But it’s always there, isn’t it
Streaming throughout our lives
The light of the face
Where most of the soul comes to rest
We see it best when the hard wind blows
Cause in the course of events
The wind will know our
|
115743
|
The items were not selected. The people were not forced to choose, with tears and a suffocating feeling.
|
115721
|
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
|
115722
|
A likeness borne in silk, rich contours of canvas giving life to the seascape.
|
115794
|
|
115700
|
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
|
115753
|
Most of life, it
turns out,
is pathetic.
Very little is funny.
We have to generate our
own laughter.
Canned laughter
may have to do.
Even if we have to carry
the can around our neck
like a Saint Bernard
or strapped to our
hip
|
115610
|
Shit, I guess I'm gonna hafta
|
115610
|
my tiny white world, the cube in the closet in the back above the shelving in a secret compartment cut into the wall
|
115643
|
On the way to
The Museum of Inner Light
Expect delays
Expect bumps in the road
Expect potholes and such
Expect a murder of crows
Rolling acorns over the rooftops
But what I want to know is who
Who eats a butterfly
On the way to
|
115651
|
the Coke made his butt leak blood
|
115611
|
"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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