2221 17 17
|
Andreas Cappelanus taught that the word / “love” comes from the word meaning / “to fish.”
|
222164
|
Roy Orbison, Roy Orbison, Roy Orbison, Roy Orbison, Roy Orbison, Roy Orbison—right now that’s all I can say.
|
2221114
|
After we have sex I slip cash into your purse, just a few bucks, without you knowing. You're not a whore, but I'd like to buy you lunch sometime without having to be there.
|
2221196
|
People disappeared in the 70's—young girls, teenagers, they always said they ran away. Nobody really believed that the next-door neighbor was capable of that kind of horror. These two girls disappeared and the police had been digging up the farm of t
|
222086
|
I was in the kitchen peeling onions. They stung my eyes, and perhaps I was crying. I heard my dear husband run into the room and turned with the knife in my hand.
|
222000
|
It's hard to say who was the first to point a finger towards the sky. Maybe it was the cherubic overall-clad toddler perched on the shoulders of his father's worn brown leather jacket. Maybe it was one of the teenaged girls, their long straight hair whipp
|
2219187
|
This is the only time she feels she can be herself.
|
22182215
|
There's a mutual recognition...
|
221820
|
I linger and pretend that I’m not there,
you find me in the end but I’ll not dare
to speak the words I only know to write.
|
221766
|
It distresses me that I do not write enough. I know I’ve told you before that I don’t read, and it may be super-ridiculous to tell you now that I don’t write much either, but that is the sad catastrophe I with affection refer to as my life.
|
2217173
|
When you push my bra down, so it rests uncomfortably beneath my breasts—your teeth dragging pink trails across my throat and shoulders, pushing your thumb and forefinger into my panties—you don't say that you love me. You say, “Jesus shit. Relax, baby,…
|
2217179
|
When Ryan isn’t around, those of us who know him lament that he peaked at 17, at Disney World.
|
221601
|
I love Michigan. Michigan is my home. I love living in Michigan. There are so many things about Michigan that people don't know. People of the world don't know anything about Michigan. Our haiku festivals, quality cheeses, our love of skinny neckties and
|
221672
|
I pass the Grief Benches on my way to work. No one is on them today. Last night I saw a couple there, him wet eyed and her with her head down. She scrunched her eyes tight as I passed and I remember thinking she was a fraud. It's alright if you don't want
|
221563
|
when the devil dies he divides enough evil for everybody
|
221543
|
The abandoned body got up and left the room. It was just in time to greet his wife and daughter, who were just coming in the front door.
|
22151311
|
Plastic Jesus wears a crown of thorns. I gesture and say: Does that hurt? He says: What do you mean? so I point at his forehead and his hand goes to it and he says O that
|
221564
|
Human being: a fruit or vegetable with animal aspirations and a mineral destiny.
|
221541
|
I've seen the pinch marks. It can't be worth it.
|
2214144
|
I still walk into galleries. A shadow of my old self still walks into galleries. That old self was hungry to be wounded by the juxtaposition of color and form and texture and line and darkness and light. But I can no longer see art. I can…
|
22141510
|
If things continue to go bad for her she will become second wife in six years.
|
221343
|
Sergio is Brazilian and his English has zero inflection, so I don't know how to take this question. The possible meanings are innumerable, some of which are very dangerous...
|
22124426
|
Del and I watched my brother toe his way to the edge of the cottonwood branch that arched over the reservoir.
|
221242
|
He (after learning of my former occupation as a record store owner): So, what is your favorite band of all time?
|
22123526
|
On Friday nights I'm not there.
|
221121
|
I looked up “tupping.” It doesn’t have anything to do with Tupperware. It’s Old English for screwing. Just like a professor–make something harder so you’ll get it wrong on the mid-term.
|
221175
|
When they were seven, he’d taken them out to the desert and let them shoot a .38 at rusted cans. The explosions rocked them back on their heels.
|
221099
|
Matilda went wild at sixty-five. Legs left unshaven for the first time in fifty years, hair still and proud, knotted with forgetting. She’d roam the streets at night, a traveler without design. Matilda was a gardener of sorts, digging up all previous assu
|
221001
|
silent black badass
unstoppable foot of God
now the sweetest sleep
|
220900
|
Something was there. It was undeniable, and he turned to face the padre, whose eyes were now clenched shut. Without asking for further permission, he moved his hand in-between the intestines, which felt like curtains of tightly—wound chorizos. Suddenly
|
