854 0 0
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What was it about you that so inflamed the flower of our youth? That you could touch lightly that which illuminates all splendor and simplicity? That you could reach beyond mere flesh directly into the gates of heaven, and put me there, floating within
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85454
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Wheel turning, round and round again
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85343
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for Edward Victory is death. Rock stardom is death. Life is murderous.Love's still beaded much longer and stronger than any row of round headed lovers. You can't stop death from turning to face you, but itsnot exactly expecting your poem's referral either. In…
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85321
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You had to put up with
Sunday drivers
You had to love children
All children, all of them!
This is what it took to be God
It wasn’t fun
You had to be patient, sometimes
You had to pretend to look the other way
You needed to lose your he
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85342
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85265
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po-mo parchments piled high deep: / credentials earnest transcripts earned /
coursework scholarships helpt buy.
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85210
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[insert short snippet of text]
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85220
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85210
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www.echapbook.com/fiction/ratch
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85285
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Don't forget to fuck me. Blow me. Suck me. Don't forget to fuck me. [REPEAT 2X]
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85231
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If in the course of a discussion of improvements someone says: “I have no idea” in a particular way at a particular moment, “I have no idea” will migrate and soon lots of people will find themselves saying “I have no idea” again and again without knowing
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85211
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Iris is beside herself with excitement that the most popular girl in her eighth-grade class invited her to join her circle of friends after school. On the sound of the bell, she charges to the door to be the first out of the room and to race to meet Ange
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85100
|
Gabe had told the stewardess that he wanted to talk to Ben. Her name was Claudia and she knew whom he was talking about. That foxy musician Ben, thought Gabe, he probably boned her on some previous flight.
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85000
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Maybe love shouldn't exist
. . .
If we follow this notion
there is no great need
Where does it come from,
this great need?
. . .
If (it) is in the blood
how do they get it out?
If not,
where is it
If they do not allow
thought
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85086
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Death threats? Just another mumbling day in the world of Willy Gregg.
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85022
|
The body receives its embrace but / only by the anti-body.
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84911
|
That morning arrived with the sound of steel pipe hitting the ground
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84910
|
what i will always remember of you is of that singular sunday / when a black lock of hair brushed against your cheek
|
84853
|
If you ever find yourself outside a funeral home lighting up
contemplating the future of the unknown, contemplate this
Maybe the cigarette’s wet on your lip and you are wondering why
Or in the middle of the night you are lying awake
and try sa
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84710
|
"I'm dreading it," says Kati Rivers, a visual artist who has lived in the Fort Point Channel district. "A bunch of fat suburbanites driving up rents and crowding creative people out of the little cafes and bistros."
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84620
|
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.
|
84610
|
I turned and gaped-
In horror gasped--
There was no clear escape.
Down Winter Street, up Park perhaps?
Too late-she had me in her grasp.
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84522
|
he felt like ranting about cars.
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84520
|
I do not like it when the dead look back at me.
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84574
|
...Or perhaps it has; It depends which way you look at it. Perhaps the reader may cite laziness As my reason for not titling this Any other than I would have done As now, with such a title As it has, since for some reason I never…
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84565
|
Borgo said 1979/So Borga remembered 1979/for him, just in case,/for what if:/
a driver license/or an act of god/or a marriage license/or even a lease/for an apartment/you never know, she said/
so he said, okay/you remember,/so she did.
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84433
|
“What the hell was that?
Is that your take on
The Deer Hunter?”
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84411
|
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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84498
|
Her hands are swift and supple as swallows, bouncing off the keyboard in rapid-fire constellations of notes, because she's playing Bach's Concerto no.1 in D Minor, which is busy and prodigal and all over the place. She is Polina Olegovna Osetinskaya, a beautiful Russian…
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844135
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Dawn is spreading its pink and blue colours over the morning. Pleasant hues, with children playing and birds chattering. A light morning, without commitments, without waves, open to promises. Mornings don't speak our language and don't make the same gestures. They speak a…
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