954 2 2
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Here is a blank space soft and white like paper extended indefinitely.
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95421
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Okay, you want the truth? I was never that good with strange. It takes me awhile to warm up. And I’ve got to be attracted, somehow. Like with your eyes.
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95420
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I don’t like telling stories. I’m far too honest and give far too many things away.
|
95497
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No one believed me when I told them this: I took all of my novels and tossed them into the fire.
|
95452
|
Sometimes he made a corny joke and smiled. The gold in his tooth glowed like
sunshine. He was the most important man in my life.
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95452
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She wondered why people would spend hard-earned money on a television when they could look up at the sky for free and trace the images that had inspired poets.
|
95433
|
My lover passes the healing comb
through the hair of my soul
during the night
as she retouches my youth
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95421
|
And then, one fateful day, the world ran out of ideas. The last one was gone, floating away like a balloon full of the helium we had already squandered.
|
95321
|
The boys back in the rental office must be wondering why we haven’t left yet. Maybe they thought we just wanted to sit in the car and listen to music.
|
95332
|
No matter how many times
flies land on butter
they will never become
butterflies
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95243
|
On the phone I asked my mother how she was doing.
“I’m getting old,” she said. “Going slow. But getting there. I’m ninety-four!”
My mother was always 94, when she was really 93. I remember she was 93, right after she turned 92. And 92 when she was
|
952127
|
“Hrrumph!” was almost audible as she turned/
to sniff behind the chifferobe for fresh/
green trophies.
|
95231
|
If it had a surface, he painted it purple. If it didn’t have a surface, he painted it purple.
|
95231
|
The only thoughts that come are old ones that are so needy they keep circling through for attention
|
95265
|
That was the year I got my Daisy bee-bee gun for Christmas....
|
95186
|
When I asked her about her husband, she laughed.
|
95121
|
don’t let them take away our youth, even if we have to beat the paint out of birds the way we did when we were young. I knew we could do anything, so let’s go back into that world and describe the new dawn all over again, even if we have to use the frozen
|
95000
|
The last time I was with Terry, she surprised me by crossing herself just before we had sex. She too had been going out with this Mario pimp, with his ski boat out on Fox River. The guy who was going around sniffing after most (if not all) of my old gir
|
95000
|
Mine lasted 90 days. But don't they all? After we made love the first time, it was early November, I remember, some internal part of me shot upward with a laughter that would not stop. Something…
|
95000
|
what happens to literature's characters when their readers traverse the veil?
|
95095
|
|
95011
|
In the morning that same girl I’d seen gave me a tangerine...
|
95010
|
|
95062
|
That new rain smell in your backyard, specifically I remember that, with you. And lying in the grass in a park with you on the 4th of July, maybe in Lombard, watching the blue/grey smoke of the fireworks drifting overhead after they went off, and the sm
|
94920
|
1. There is a crowd of people walking to a field and since there are over forty of them, the conversations become divided and then subdivided in accordance w/natural rhythms. I follow behind. It is a football game. Makeshift. Twenty aside roughly. Almost every…
|
94976
|
If she weaves words that are true enough
|
94911
|
“You want me to come out there and repossess that froofy coffee you’re drinking?” he snaps, sending Corrallo up the steps and onto the street to lick his wounds.
|
94941
|
Then I got another letter, but this time it was from my friend Andy, warning me that he’d seen Miller riding around with Lynda, driving her grandparent’s Dodge with Lynda sitting right up against his side, and his arm was around her.
I saw red. I went
|
94900
|
"In the shit the dogs circle, talking of a dead bitch, maybe Merkel" - Michelangelo's poem of a stultified flower that never emulsifies, an orange California poppy of pink-gold drenched in urine and a horse in either burns bright whinnies and trollops neigh a pipping…
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94953
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