1005 0 0
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Being forced to spend blood money on libations isn't stoic.
It's shitty.
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100541
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They had to dress normal, my other boyfriends, be beardless, hairless, everything torn away, plucked, shorn smooth, because it elicited moisture on the tongue (when I was with you.) But I grew bored as the day before I first saw you.
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100500
|
The paper
in his typewriter
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100534
|
...the room was filled
with a brightness
and a breeze,
making you think
you were up in
the clouds.
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100520
|
Gee but it’s great after being out late,
Walking my lobster back home.
There’s little risk that she’ll turn into bisque,
Walking my lobster back home.
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100520
|
Your steering wheel is hot.You don't feel it though, I mean,It tingles some but it doesn't have that crawling, stinging feelingLike the way you'd feel it if they hadn't called.Not the way other people in Arizona feel it.You don't feel you or her or anything in…
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100486
|
Mischief / has marked the bone marauders for doom.
|
100410
|
I leave you because
you violently told me to,
I still love you because
I told you I always would.
|
100411
|
In 1609 Ben Jonson was hired to write a work in celebration of the opening of a new shopping mall.
|
100476
|
There was a big pile of dirt in back, where the little Hebrew School bochurs would play King of the Mountain—tugging, tearing, biting, punching, using whatever weapons they could get their tiny hands on to topple whoever scrambled up the mound first.
|
100485
|
The next/
may be the lucky one,/
undiscovered all these years.
|
100420
|
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…
|
100420
|
It's awfulYou remember everythingYou never forgetEvery insultEvery bruiseEvery scarEvery burnEvery nickEvery blow You never forgetI never forget The pain of memoryYou think you forgetBut you never forgetThe dread of some wholly misfortuneThe pain that left you…
|
1003139
|
Our local low rent ice-based superhero said he’d had enough and would check back in early spring.
|
100330
|
I prowl. You prowl. We all prowl.
|
100311
|
|
100321
|
Stealing time. Always gambling. I used to wake up with wet eyes; remnants of nights and days spent in places I never wanted to leave. I took to insomnia to escape the dreams that reminded me of places I could never return to.Now I sleep here. When I can.
|
100310
|
Some things are said.
Others, never.
|
100311
|
Who's that? I don't know. …
|
100343
|
strange daysi'm having lunch with the babyand we're talking about people-watchingand old souls and coffee and twizzlersit's a weird conversation but she's my babyso something about some apple not falling far from the treewould best fit in herebut anywayi feel like i'm…
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100300
|
I see it now. This is like the blind flash of the mind going off inside, where memory begins to make up its own stories. And the women are often drawn, painted, sung about, while the men are not, so often. What is it about us that they cannot resist loo
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100332
|
I dream empty, the wind blowing benzene blue. Shards of glass. Barbed wire. Bricks crushing flame into notions gone quick, never painless. Is it my blood? In my eyes. On my hands. Is it for you? I'm not sure where I'm walking here. Walking towards what from. Is it…
|
100283
|
In the dark I rode naked
feeling quite exposed...
|
100200
|
The sexuality comes over us in waves. We need to hold things, someone. The women, the men, side by side, our features blending together. We notice the small curved lines at the corners of the mouth. We notice everything. And the animal is still inside m
|
100200
|
Morning. A hot bright sun shines down on the cool dark depths of the deep blue sea.
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100222
|
Agnes folded the magazine in her lap. It was one of those women's magazines that had a picture of a supermodel on the cover. The girl was pencil thin and not that attractive, at least not as far as Agnes was concerned, and she was surrounded by boldface words encouraging…
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100211
|
Patio Joe, 55 and constantly smelling of swill, got his name because he sold and stocked patio furniture at the neighborhood Kmart. With his pockets full of dusty rags and crushed Old Golds, he'd daydream about check out girls.But I suppose you'd have to call them check out…
|
100211
|
artifacts gone obsolete / miscegenating in suspension
|
100242
|
When they first brought me home, I was their pride and joy. Then, one day, they put me in this wooden box.
|
100221
|
Did you ever have a morning when you just did not want to wake up? Sleep can be marvelous, but dreams not so much. If you believe, here is a tale. "She was awakened by the mushing of her pillow around where her head lay squarely on it. It was not violent,
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