928 2 1
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“You know this is your death car.”
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92821
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The middle finger talks of many things
How I killed the moon
But still drank the moonshine
And how getting over her took
Some bleeding from the soul
Maybe it’s the Inner Face of Outer Space
That worries me the most
But what about the Fro
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92743
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—and the god presiding over all / a four-faced, double-Janused clock / its equal seconds clickt away / ticking us our steps and breaths . . .
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92700
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I saw ice on the bottom of the moon last night, and I always thought I knew what it meant to go without, but this is something else again. To be without you this long is exhausting, it could wither the soul to go on like this. There’s this head hanging,
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92700
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“Are there really, truly zombies in Haiti?”
“Bien sur,” he said. He had even seen them: affectless men and women with a deathlike pallor, high nasal voices, and the characteristic drooping at the chin.
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92732
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A fractured world we haunt: the streets, the schoolyards- Across the floodlit roads, where we shared drunk adonics: No marbled halls but towers that stole the stars' eyes- Flat-roofed serrations against…
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92511
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“Time to check out,” I tell myself, looking at sailboats and surfers from the open window of my hotel room. I inhale minty incense and gaze down on a dark-skinned woman in a sombrero beneath towering palm trees. Laid out before her on a folding table ar
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92501
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She BENDS over and retrieves a bag that says POTATO CHIPS on it. Her dress is vaguely sweaty.
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92411
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92300
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If I can’t lure you with this animal that’s in me, what can? I want to know. With this pain that was privately held for so long? That was acquainted with the fellowship of hell? I sang, I cried out when I was away from you, even while tossing and twitch
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92341
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Last night the thesaurus exploded. Don’t ask how. It just did. Exploded. Burst. Blew up. Flew into pieces. Discharged.
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92274
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As Sebald says, I grew up in the shadow of war....
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92144
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It is ten days before the 2024 election.So I am right now alternating between biting my cuticles and sipping a gin martini.I'm reading Virginia Woolf out in the backyard.The neighbor is having roof shingles replaced.Banging. Banging...BANGING!It is 3:34…
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92144
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When Alex says “sorry” in that barely disguised Canadian accent, we call him an asshole.
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92100
|
It was the middle of the night when she started hearing voices.
She thought the voice was saying, “Hello Dolly, Hello Dolly,” and that was when she called the building manager.
It was the middle of the night, but he came up to her apartment anyway, be
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92144
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I charm as any stone-sculpted dream: / men grind themselves to dust on my breasts / in solitude poets spill and spew /
enraptured of my adamant clay.
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92030
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The only time Terry and I came close to fucking, when she was still underage, I mean, was once when I went to see her at somebody’s apartment where she was baby-sitting. She invited me over to have pizza, I think. Of course, I brought beer. And we start
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91911
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There I saw a woman with dyed long red hair
Dressed all in furs and a short tight skirt
Way too young for her age
And she was banging a tampon on her leg
At the performance of Ramblin Jack Eliot
And no one got up to throw red wine on her
Ful
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91920
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When one hears the siren call of artsy high school love, there’s not much one can do except go ahead and crash on the rocks, sending incense sticks and candles flying.
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91900
|
Sorry to disturb. Have you seen God in here?No, not of lately, no. Shit.Why, is it urgent?Kind of. Would a cup of tea be of any help?Always. Man in the living room goes in the kitchen, space and time suddenly shift, man in dream does not know where he is, man…
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91942
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919137
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unsteady, they try to rise
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91900
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sometimes when i tell myself i want to die i’m like ok dude whatever join the club just the other day someone online asked me whether i knew where he could get a copy of that japanese book about how to kill yourself
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91810
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www.echapbook.com/fiction/ratch
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91721
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In fact we were all drinking together in banquet halls (on banquet ships) with an epic poet who invented things, made things up, while dying in thorough dissipation.
Washed to shore, our souls with our lives, our shadows. And storms swept them away
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91733
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nothing. But it could be something. I don't know. We'd probably have to agree on at least one thing for it to turn around and face us. Then it would have to be named, set free. We could watch it fly away together. That's a portend to…
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91700
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A tattered bird had a made a tomb in tepid water, it was a puddle near the framework of a half-built room— but the soul's a swerving tunnel and the dead are waiting at the end: all sorts of animals huddled at the fringe where littered pine needles stand and creep…
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91700
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“Why don’t you dump Mr. Fitness here and give one of us a chance?” a mouse says.
“I wouldn’t fuck you for practice,” she says sharply.
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91786
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Shivers of desire,
bristles of knowing
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91774
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I'm more ash now than cigar.
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